The Johto Odyssey
by Galbinus-Rayquaza
Summary: Stalkers, her annoying little brother, old loves, new rivals, secret organizations, and the increased eccentricity of her Pokemon's personalities were not a planned part of May's journey in Johto. But somehow, she'll make it work. DrewxMayxBrendan.
1. On the Ship

**The Johto Odyssey  
**A Pokémon Fanfic by Galbinus

**Disclaimer: **OMG LIKE I OWN POKÉMON?? No way.

A warning from **01 / 04 / 2007**: Drew does not appear until the end of chapter **four**. If you have a problem with this, deal with it. Also, the first few chapters (think: until the end of chapter seven) focus mainly on laying the love triangle base; therefore, the Pokémon don't interact much until chapter eight, where you will see their personalities get fleshed out more. Adventure before Romance.

Oh, and _there is a plot_. It does not surface yet, though. . .

In any case, enjoy!

**Chapter One: On the Ship**

**Unknown**

"Let me go." A pair of silver eyes flashed in the darkness.

A chuckle. "Resistance is futile, son. Unless you accept my offer, you are not going anywhere." The subtle rustling of expensive cloth. "You should not have been so careless when you and your little band of Pokémon trespassed into my territory."

"I said. . . _let me go._"

Sanguine-amber eyes glinted belligerently. "Are you deaf, boy? I will not do so until you accept my offer. . ." There was a click, and something metallic shone under the ever-faint lights of the jail room. ". . . I have been patient enough with you. . . accept it, or face the consequences."

Silence.

"I. . ."

**Ferry to Johto from Kanto—17:00; September 2, 2006**

Maybelline Sapphire Maple stood at the edge of the ship on the starboard side, sighing as she waved at the shore with her younger brother.

"Wow, I can't believe we're leaving Ash." Sapphire eyes gazed at a thinning shoreline, upon which azure waves lapped gently at the edge and two miniscule figures on the beach waved energetically at the ship. A thin, pale pink pair of lips curved slightly. "And Brock. I wonder who's going to have to drag him away from pretty girls now."

A gloved hand ran through thick, straight, coffee-colored brown hair and then proceeded to wave happily back at the duo. As they faded from sight, a sigh released itself wistfully from the mouth of the girl Coordinator. A small boy wiped away shining tears from his olive-green eyes, in front of which a heavy-rimmed pair of glasses were perched lightly. His already messy azure hair appeared even messier after the two's departure from their friends.

"Oh, cheer up, Max; you'll be getting your beginning Pokémon. . . soon." The girl, a few heads taller than her little brother, smiled encouragingly – revealing rows upon rows of pearly-white teeth – before donning a red bandana. Both unfortunately and predictably from her somewhat clumsy nature, May

"In eleven months, you mean." Max, the boy, glanced somewhat angrily at his two hands, of which he stretched out before himself. "I just can't wait that long!" He seemed to be thinking back on something, and May instantly began wondering if he was perhaps recounting Pokémon he should have on his Team by now.

"Still, that's not very long, is it?" The older sister patted her little brother on his shoulder, then found an empty porch on the poop deck. "Eleven months. . . four years we've been traveling, and Ash and Brock are even older than us."

The nine-years-and-one-month-old boy pouted loudly. "But _May_," He moaned, "You're already _fourteen_, and Ash is _seventeen_. Brock's, like, _twenty-two!_ I'll never get to be as old as you guys are!" He slammed his fist impatiently on the side of the ship. A pair of Wingull fluttered away, frightened by the boy. Max only scowled angrily.

"Now, Max." May patted her little brother's curled fist primly. "We had a talk about this, didn't we? Time passes the same for all of us – and soon, very soon, you'll officially become a Trainer, as if you aren't already!" She snorted, recounting all those times Max's Pokémon knowledge had helped out the group.

"Thanks." Max said half-heartedly, dismissively waving his left hand.

"Look, here they come." She gestured towards a herd of Pokémon a few meters away from themselves, but coming closer, somewhat reluctantly as a few Pokémon glanced lovingly back, over their shoulders—if they had any or one at all—at Kanto.

The tall, humanoid shape of a Blaze Pokémon strutted over to his Trainer's size, carrying an air of boredom not dissimilar to that a human teenager might possess. May patted her Blaziken encouragingly on the shoulder, then drew back immediately as the fire-typed Pokémon let its left wrist erupt in flames, clearly in an attempt to shoo his Trainer away. The brown-haired Coordinator did not approve of this very much, and wondered what happened to the small Torchic who once tried so valiantly to catch her attention when all of it was directed on training her Beautifly. Her time to dwell on this thought was cut short, however, when another one of her Pokémon squeaked loudly.

The Tiny Turtle Pokémon practically hurled himself at his Trainer, head, tail, and feet retracted inside his terracotta shell. May was startled, and even more so when her Squirtle began bawling his head off. She rubbed the water-typed Pokémon's shell affectionately, shooting Max death glares when he sniggered at her matronly and somehow comical behavior. The brown-haired Coordinator saw from the corners of her eyes her Blaziken snort in disgust, but she did not scowl, thinking this was merely because he was hungry or something like that. . . even though she would later find out that she was very, very wrong.

One Pokémon of May's that was hungry, and seemed to constantly be so, was her Munchlax. The Big Eater Pokémon's eyes, as usual, were closed—May had not seen them open yet. His stomach gave growls every five seconds or so, much to his Teammate's and Trainer's disdain, although his expression was perfectly relaxed and oddly serene.

The only female Pokémon in this group of Pokémon was May's Eevee, who did not seem to be bothered with the unfair gender ratio. Predictably, the small brown feline Pokémon was slowly licking her fur, smoothing out any rifts and tufts in her glimmering coat. The Coordinator was thankful for this—she was busy enough grooming her other Pokémon before each Contest. Rather contradictorily, her brief moment of ladylikeness did not reflect her usual mischievous nature.

"Err, all right everyone," May said softly after her Squirtle had stopped crying, so as to not tempt the Tiny Turtle Pokémon into any display of cries. "Did you have fun exploring the ship?" Her Pokémon answered with shakes of heads, all except for Munchlax, who seemed to have fallen asleep on his feet. "Well, er, I think you should go and, like, keep exploring the ship. You know, socialize with people, err, I meant, other Pokémon. See if they're Contest Pokémon too."

Her Pokémon sullenly agreed. Squirtle squealed and launched himself off of May's arms, skull bashing Eevee in the side. The Evolution Pokémon cringed, although thankfully the attack had merely been a playful gesture. Eevee somewhat reluctantly tagged along after Squirtle, who was squawking and gurgling joyfully, tugging at random Trainers' pant-cuffs. Munchlax seemed to wake up, and unhurriedly began following his two Teammates.

Blaziken chirped spontaneously and began heading in the opposite direction that his Teammates had went. May wondered why this was so, but did not pursue the matter. Instead, she settled herself with reorganizing her dandelion bag, while Max picked up a magazine entitled 'Trainers Today' and began flipping through the pages.

**Ferry to Johto from Kanto—17:14; September 2, 2006**

The Blaze Pokémon had wandered aimlessly around the ship for almost a quarter of an hour, occasionally bumping into other people's Pokémon. He chirped in annoyance whenever this occurred, and it merely took one intimidating stare to frighten the offending Pokémon to shuffle away quickly.

The Blaziken was completely bored. Every so often he would stop and take a good look around himself, looking for perhaps another Blaziken or some other Pokémon to challenge. All of the Trainers seemed highly protective of any Pokémon they had out, and so the fire-typed Pokémon was out of luck on this prospect.

Or was he? He had just got a cobalt glimmer, presumably that of a water-typed Pokémon's tail. His curiosity aroused, the Blaziken carefully approached the port side of the ship where he thought he had seen the shine.

A Milotic, her elongated figure coiled up on the deck, was sleeping quietly, her fan-shaped blue tail glistening in the twilight. The sun's rays gave her creamy fur a vermillion tinge, and for some reason Blaziken didn't know exactly what it was, the Blaze Pokémon found her oddly attractive. He crouched down, observing the snake-like Pokémon breath in and out, until she hiccupped in her sleep.

Reacting on instinct, Blaziken's wrists and ankles erupted in flames—due to how close he had been squatting next to the Tender Pokémon, his fire scorched her fine fur and instantly she was awake. The Blaze Pokémon hurried backwards, unsure of what to do next, although he forgot to stop his flames—consequentially the Milotic saw that he was the one who burned her and unhinged her mouth, an angry expression uncharacteristic on her normally tranquil, serpentine face.

Blaziken knew exactly what was coming, due to many water-typed attacks he had been forced to endure over his stay with his Coordinator, but his legs refused to move. A globule of blue water formed near the Tender Pokémon's mouth, enlarging rapidly. Soon, the sphere of water was the size of a basketball and the Milotic had hurled it with a sharp nod of her head at Blaziken.

The bird-like Pokémon was drenched from head to toe, quite literally. The flames on his wrists and ankles were extinguished effortlessly by the impeccable 'Water Pulse' attack, and despite the startling array of rude squawks that lingered at the tip of Blaziken's tongue, he could not help but feel in awe at the way the attack was executed. It was so fast, that even if he wanted to move, Blaziken did not know if he could.

Milotic, noting that the fire-typed Pokémon had chosen to remain stationary, began preparing another 'Water Pulse' to throw at Blaziken. The bird-like Pokémon, however, could not risk being on the receiving end of another water-typed attack—he dove, using all of his speed and strength in pushing himself to the ground, and managed to barely avoid being soaked by another attack.

He was angry now. Summoning all of his concentration, the Blaziken lit up his wrists and ankles once again, ignoring the pain that came of the effort it took to sustain the flames when his body was so wet. He rushed towards the Tender Pokémon, intending to teach it right with a violent 'Slash' attack, but was surprised when the Milotic slithered away with, well, surprising agility. He ended up splintering a portion of the wooden deck. Several humans gasped in astonishment at his 'wild' behavior, but the Blaziken didn't care—he had missed his target!

Face now burning, albeit not literally, with embarrassment, the Blaziken allowed the flames on his right ankle to cover his entire right leg. He rushed towards Milotic, and before the Tender Pokémon could react, had slammed with all of his force onto the water-typed Pokémon and then leapt back. The Milotic writhed in pain as the burn marks on the side of her tail multiplied.

She shot another 'Water Pulse' at the Blaziken, who leapt aside, although not in time. His legs were soaked with cold water, rendering any future possibilities of 'Blaze Kick's completely inexistent. The Milotic replenished her health with a fast 'Recover', and before Blaziken could pull himself to his feet, she had opened her mouth and shot another sphere of freezing water at him.

Very unexpectedly, someone had darted in front of Blaziken and taken the blow for him. Blaziken let out a chirp of surprise and straightened himself up, noticing that his 'savior' was a human garbed in a short-sleeved black jacket and three-quarters black pants. The most conspicuous thing about the Trainer, though, was his shock of silver hair that caused Blaziken to let out a chirp of recognition.

"Milotic, return," The Trainer said groggily, reaching for a Pokeball strapped on his bottle-green belt. The Tender Pokémon was sucked into the spherical device, disappearing in a glossy flash of red light.

_So the Milotic was his Pokémon, eh,_ Blaziken thought silently to himself, shuffling his feet apprehensively as the Trainer wrung the bottom half of his jacket dry. Black hair, protruding underneath his white-cloth hat, clung to his neck, and as he turned around, Blaziken instantly noticed a green headband stretched across the boy's forehead.

To Blaziken's surprise, the black-haired Trainer, who appeared to be of mid-teenage, opened his mouth and began apologizing fervently. "I'm sorry, Milotic has never attacked another Pokémon so freely and unprovoked before; I am personally exceptionally shocked by her monstrous behavior, very unladylike for a Pokémon of her stature, but I'm sure that she just had a bad day or something." He paused for a short while. "Or perhaps the Ganlon Berries I put in her Pokeblocks were a bit overripe or something. It's hard to dart around, picking berries around the entire of Kanto. Anyways, I am digressing—the fault is entirely mine and I hope that this. . . er. . . unfortunate incident hasn't caused you much trouble."

After this, the black-haired teenager bowed deeply, and then pulled himself back to his full height, which was approximately Blaziken's. He was exceptionally tall for his age, although Blaziken had seen taller—but than again, the fire-typed Pokémon did not judge much on height. Instead, the Blaze Pokémon was now eying the Milotic's Pokeball with unease, as if she could burst out of her container and soak him again with another 'Water Pulse'.

To Blaziken's immense relief, his Coordinator had wound his way throughout the throng that had gathered and was now dissipating with the battle's end. May raised her eyebrows in puzzlement, as she could not see the black-haired Trainer's face, his back having been turned to him, but instead barged rudely in front of the teenager and demanded, "Hey, what are you doing?" without glancing at him. Her blue eyes raked Blaziken's dripping body, and with a grimace on her face, she returned him.

"Oh, uh, my Milotic attacked your Blaziken." The black-haired Trainer replied truthfully, with a note of uncertainty. Blaziken could hear the conversation inside of his Pokeball and see his Trainer move through the semi-transparent hood of the Pokeball, and the expression on her face certainly was not happy.

"You _what?_" May turned around to face the black-haired Trainer. Her jaw dropped open in shock. "Wait. . . _Brendan? Brendan Birch?_"

"That would be me." Brendan said proudly, dipping his head politely. Then his sanguine eyes met May's. "Wait. . . _May? May Maple?_" His jaw, too, dropped; his expression looked odd on his pale, angular face.

"Oh my god! I can't. . . it's been so long. . . wow. . ." May stammered, her tone of voice clearly disbelief.

"Yeah. . . wow. . . _five years. . ._" Brendan trailed off. Blaziken could almost hear his mind racing.

"Yeah. . ." May said dully, her eyes glazing over with reminiscence and something else Blaziken hadn't quite seen before.

A long silence ensued. Blaziken waited impatiently for his fur to dry out.

"So, uh, May," Brendan began, seeming unsure, but continued, "Where have you, uh, been all these years?"

"Oh, me? I. . . er. . . after you left for your Pokémon journey, there was still several months to kill before I left, so I went to a tailor and had him make more copies of this outfit you designed for me," May replied, gesturing towards her clothes. Brendan nodded. "And, well, after that, this guy called Ash broke my bicycle, y'know, the fold-up one your dad brought for us—I hope you still have yours, mine is beyond repair—when he was in Mauville?"—Brendan nodded—"and then I decided to go with him on my Pokémon journey."

"Wait, you _what_?" Brendan asked, a tone of slight disbelief in his voice.

"I went with Ash on his Pokémon journey. . . he was about thirteen or fourteen at the time, I think. Well, he could've been twelve. He was kind of short."

"You went with a complete, older stranger on your Pokémon journey." Brendan's voice was almost sarcastic.

"Uh, yeah. Then we met up with Ash's friend and ex-gym leader, Brock, who, when I met him, was about twenty at the time." May stated, matter-of-factly, looking thoroughly confused.

"And then you met up with an even older stranger."

"Yeah. . .what's wrong with that?"

"May, May, May." Brendan said exasperatingly, slapping his left hand on his forehead. "Have you completely forgotten what your mother taught you about strangers?"  
"Why, what did she say?"

"Oh. . . my. . . Arceus. . ."

"Hmm. It doesn't seem very like my mother to say 'Oh my Arceus'. I mean, I don't think she's ever been to Sinnoh," May stated astutely, contemplatively scratching her chin. Both Blaziken and Brendan could only ogle her pitifully. "Well, mom and dad met Ash before I went with him on his Pokémon journey of course, and they said he looked okay, so they let me go with him."

"They let you go? _Your parents?_"

"Yeah." May paused, a frown on her face. "So what?"

"May, you're hopeless." An incredulous expression was on Brendan's face, and Blaziken had to agree with him. "And so are your parents."

"Hey!" The brown-haired Coordinator retaliated, puffing up indignantly.

"It's. . . nothing. At least you're okay." Brendan hesitated for a moment, and then asked, "They. . . didn't. . . uh. . . hurt you, did they?"

"What? No, no!" May exclaimed. "They're really good! Brock's the best cook ever, I think you might have some competition in that area; and Ash is a really great teacher, he taught me bunches of stuff about Pokémon!"

"And there was me, thinking you'd never touch a Pokémon in your life," Brendan said dryly.

"Well, I wasn't a very good Trainer at first, I'll admit, but then I decided I wanted to become a Coordinator, so I did!" May said happily. "I caught myself a Wurmple, and then it evolved, and then it evolved again, so I could attend the Contest in Slateport!"

"Wow, I never thought—I mean, of all the people I knew. . ." Brendan sighed. "Time sure does change people. So did you win the Contest?"

"No." May answered, an angry scowl on her face. "Drew beat me."

A tone of suspicion crawled into Brendan's voice, although Blaziken was ready to bet his bottom that May had not noticed. "Who's this Drew?"

"Oh, he's my rival." May replied vaguely. Blaziken began feeling that she was concealing something from Brendan, and he was pretty sure the black-haired Trainer felt that too.

"Just your rival?" Brendan asked. The suspicion in his voice was quite apparent, and it was a wonder how May hadn't detected it.

"Yeah." May answered, then shrugged and let the thought pass. "So anyways, after I lost that, I decided to train my Pokémon even more valiantly for the Contests. This crazy, purple-haired, gender-confused man kept trying to drag me down, though,"—Brendan wore an expression of amusement and disturbance—"but I managed to scrape five ribbons, and I could attend the Hoenn Grand Festival!"

"You—attend the Grand Festival? Wow."

"Yeah, I know, huh? I didn't win, though." May resumed a sad expression.

Brendan let out a bark of laughter. "It's nearly impossible for someone to win such a large and prestigious tournament only with a year or two of Training."

"Yeah, I guess."

"So. . . where did you go after that?" Brendan asked.

"I went to Kanto, still with Ash, and then I defeated all the Contests there and entered the Grand Festival. Surprisingly, I managed to beat Drew,"—Brendan looked surprised, but nodded encouragingly—"but then I lost to Drew's rival, Soledad. And now I've decided I want to go to Johto and enter the Festival there."

"Wow." Was all Brendan could say.

May nodded slowly, as if reeling in from shock at her own accomplishments, but then asked, remembering her manners, "So what about you?"

"Me? Well, I went on my Pokémon journey in Hoenn, o'course, and caught a whole lot of Pokémon for my dad and for my Pokedex. After I defeated all the gyms—it was a breeze, 'cept for that last one, Wallace is dang hard to beat."

"Wallace?" May asked, looking puzzled. "I thought the gym leader of Sootopolis was Juan."

"Yes, but that was after Wallace became the Champion." Brendan explained. May nodded. "Anyways, I was so impressed by Wallace that I decided I wanted to train under him."

"What?"

"I begged Wallace to become my tutor."

May appeared suddenly more interested. "Did he say yes?"

"Not at first. I had just lost to him, you know. I kept on challenging him to another battle that he had to say yes—and this was in the middle of the street. Well, I managed to win his Luvdisc with my Shiftry, and then he handed me the Rain Badge and accepted my offer."

"Wow. The Champion." May said, sounding amazed. "Did you learn much under him?"

"Loads. Without him, I wouldn't be half of what I am now—not to mention, I wouldn't have managed to defeat both Sinnoh and Kanto's gyms."

"You did? That's very,"—May stopped, searching for the correct adjective—"cool!"

"It is, huh? But I was on a tight schedule, what with catching all the Pokémon and whatnot. So I didn't have time to enter the Leagues. On the bright side, though, I'm very close to completing my National Pokedex."

"Good for you!" May beamed, looking happy for her friend.

"I'm just missing Johto's gyms and Pokémon in my 'Dex, so that's why I decided to take this ferry and go there. And, well, that's it for me." Brendan finished. A silence followed in which both friends did not quite know what to say, and Blaziken began feeling a little bit hungry. "So, uh, where's Max? Did he follow you on your Pokémon journey?"

"Yeah." May glared in annoyance. "After another year of this torture, though, he'll finally be able to start his own Pokémon journey."

"I wonder which Pokémon he's going to get. Surely a Hoenn starter?"

"Hmm. Most likely Treeko." May said, looking disapproving. "Personally, I don't see why he likes them. They're icky."

"Agreed." Brendan laughed.

"Hey, what other Pokémon besides your Milotic do you have?" May asked, deliberately casually.

"You mean, right now, on my Team?"

"Yeah."

"Er, let's see. . . huh. . . I have my Swampert, Milotic, Aggron, Shiftry, Gallade, and Dragonite. . . why?"

"Oh, just wondering." May replied idly.

"What about you?" Brendan asked, looking genuinely curious.

"Blaziken," May said, face deadpan. "Eevee, Munchlax, and Squirtle."

"Only four?"

"Well, I have more than that, but I left it at Professor Oak's."

Brendan nodded slowly. He opened his mouth, as if about to ask another question, but was rudely interrupted by a blob of green and brown that rammed, head-first, into May's side. Hurriedly, he helped the brown-haired Coordinator up, and went to investigate the motion blur, only to notice that it was Max, who was now eying Brendan with familiarity.

"Hey, you're Brendan, right?" Max asked tentatively. He had been, after all, only five years old the last time they had met.

"Yeah." Brendan answered, while May glowered at her little brother for his rudeness. "You must be Max." He extended a gloved hand to the younger boy, who shook it after a few seconds of consideration.

"What are you doing here?" Max asked apprehensively. May looked furious at her brother's indifference, and Blaziken hoped that she would not mallet her brother again.

"I'm going to Johto." Brendan replied dryly. Max merely tilted his head in answer, looking at Brendan with a calculating gaze. May excused her brother by shoving him out of the way and then pounding him on the head in what appeared to be a very powerful manner with her bare hands.

"So, uh, Brendan, want to join us in the Pokémon Center?" May asked, gesturing towards the red-roofed building in the center of the ferry. Brendan answered with a smile and Blaziken could feel his Pokeball shifting up and down in May's dandelion-colored bag as she made her way through the translucent sliding cherry doors.

The three found their seats on cushiony swiveling chairs. May bounced down happily, her bangs swaying slightly. Max, rubbing the growing bump on the top of his head, murmured something under his breath that, luckily for him, escaped May's notice but earned a frown from Brendan, who also seated himself. Most unladylike, May's stomach began growling.

"I see you're hungry." Brendan stated. May gave him a sheepish grin, while the black-haired Trainer fished around in his single-strapped emerald backpack for. . . well. . . something. A few seconds later, he had pulled out a plastic-wrapped sandwich and handed it to May, who beamed at him and accepted it.

Pulling off the wrap, the brown-haired Coordinator took a large bite out of the sandwich that accounted for half of it. Max looked at her in disgust while Brendan looked as if he were trying very hard to suppress laughter, and fortunately for him he was successful in this venture.

After five seconds, May had finished with the sandwich and looked at Brendan as if expecting another one. Brendan shrugged, as if to say, 'No more.' Max sniggered at the astonished and offended expression that overcame his sister's face. The azure-haired boy then opened his mouth, as if about to ask a question, but at that precise moment, two Trainers strode in through the sliding doors, bickering rather loudly.

"I'm telling you, Marina, we should go to New Bark Town first." A boy, appearing to be around fifteen years of age, said pleadingly. On his head he was wearing an informal yellow baseball cap. Black hair jutted out of an underneath his hair, and he was wearing a red sweatshirt as well as yellow shorts. He readjusted his two backpack straps. "I need to get some money."

"From who?" A higher, far more feminine voice asked sharply. A swimmer's cap covered the girl's head, and two strands of bright cerulean hair stuck out in pigtails from underneath this hat. White sleeves rustled as the girl reached for a Pokeball strapped on the belt on her jeans, presumably to pass them to the Nurse Joy behind the counter.

"Ah, from, ah, my mom." The boy answered, also reaching for a Pokeball, although he was shifting around in his backpack. Blaziken watched the entire scenario from underneath his own container. He noticed vaguely that May, Max, and Brendan all had curious expressions on their faces.

"Your mom? Honestly, Jimmy, are you that much of a cheapskate?" Marina asked, passing her Pokeball over to the Nurse Joy, who smiled and accepted it. The black-haired boy too passed his Pokeball over, and the nurse laid both Pokeballs on the healing bed.

"No, she keeps some of my money at home." Jimmy answered, raising an eyebrow in bemusement. The blue-haired girl squinted one eye at him before accepting her Pokeball after Nurse Joy had healed it; Jimmy did the same.

"Well, it is true that the Pokémon League hasn't set up a decent banking system yet." Marina said lightly as she tucked her Pokeball back on her jeans. Max, unable to restrain himself, burst off of his seat and grabbed the blue-haired Trainer's hand, much to both friends' surprise. Blaziken's throat felt rather dry.

"Finally! I find someone else who understands what horribly dry economical situation the four Pokémon Regions are lying in!" Max cried, seeming very moved. His sister seemed too shocked to do anything, and Brendan simply looked confused. Jimmy and Marina exchanged bewildered looks.

"Uh. . . who are you?" Marina asked slowly, her eyebrow rising higher.

"Max Maple." Max answered, shaking Marina's hand. May seemed to have gotten over her initial surprise, and now looked positively murderous. "And you are?"

"Um. . . Marina Clearwater." Marina answered hesitatingly, and then added, "I train Water Pokémon, mainly, and I want to win the Johto Grand Festival." At these words, Blaziken noticed his Coordinator's ears prick up.

"And I'm Jimmy." Jimmy inserted. A short pause, then, "And I want to win the Johto League." Brendan's pale mouth seemed to twitch with interest.

"Marina and Jimmy, huh?" Max asked. The two gave nods of confirmation. "I think I've heard of you somewhere before. . ."

"Well, we're moderately famous," Marina admitted shyly. Jimmy snorted, as if to say 'Of course!'. "I do dance routines with my Pokémon, and Jimmy here has been raising money for the kids in New Bark Town."

"Oh yeah, I think I've heard of you!" Max exclaimed, glasses shining with recognition. May could not stand her brother continuously make a fool of himself—she jumped off her seat and pulled him back before he could say anything. Marina and Jimmy watched silently, seeming to not know what to say.

"It's very nice to meet you two," May said quickly, most probably directed towards Marina and Jimmy, since her gaze was directed at her own knees. "I'm, er, I'm May."

"May, huh? Your brother is sure. . . ah. . ." Jimmy trailed off.

"I know." May answered with a sigh while Max squirmed in her vice-like grip. "I've had to deal with him for nine years."

Blaziken then decided to stop eavesdropping on the conversation, and quietly fell asleep.

**Ferry to Johto from Kanto—18:30; September 2, 2006**

Brendan Ruby Birch lay on his small bed in the ferry, thinking over the events that had occurred over the past twenty-four hours. He had defeated two Trainers before stepping on the ferry—both double battles, but the two fights had been unremarkable and so he brushed away the memory.

Then he had eaten a simple lunch consisting of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches he had whipped up for himself. Again, this thought was unremarkable, and it did not take so long to forget it.

But then he had met May again, and the mere memory of the whole encounter was enough for him to pore over for hours. He would have been perfectly content doing so, but since May was eating dinner in the opposite room, he did not feel much need to dissect each of May's words.

May. It had been so very long since they last had met, so long, in fact, that Brendan had almost forgotten about her. He recalled how angry she had been when he first left for his own Hoenn Pokémon Journey—she had expected him to wait for her to turn of age before they both departed. In all sincerity, this was what Brendan had really, truly wanted, but his father would hear none of it.

Sometimes Brendan wished that his father would be as laid-back to him as he did with other people he issued Pokedexes. He was pretty sure most people would be surprised if they discovered just how strictly Robert Birch ran his household. May was one of them. Upon reflection, he thought the only person he had confessed in his laments about how authoritarian his father was was probably Wally Winter.

He recalled the day Wally declared that he wanted to be a Pokémon Breeder and settled himself with volunteering at the Daycare—handy since his uncle lived so closely. Wally had been so close to his old dream of the Pokémon League, too, it was a real pity. If only his dreadful asthma hadn't attacked at the last second. . . Brendan shook his head.

But meeting May again. . . wow. She had changed so much from the girly, childish, immature girl he had known when they were small. In fact, their first meeting was fresh in his mind.

_Flashback_

_"Father, who's that coming?" A four-year-old Brendan Birch asked, tugging on his father's pants sleeves, since he was too short to tug anywhere else. His crimson gaze was directed through his room's window, towards the opposite house which was identical to his own in every aspect. A red moving truck was just unloading, and Machokes were carefully maneuvering lots of boxes._

_"They're our new neighbors." Professor Birch answered studiously, straightening his tie in the mirror. His waistline was just beginning to bulge then._

_"Wow!" Brendan exclaimed. For four years he had lived in Littleroot in solitude, and it was hopelessly dull. Only a few months ago had Wally Winter moved to Petalburg, and the golden-green-haired boy could only visit Brendan once every other week, due to his poor health condition—and god knows that his father wouldn't let him go anywhere, except to meet Pokémon._

_"You know, Brendan, our neighbors have a child about your age." Brendan's father said mysteriously._

_"Wow, really?" Brendan gasped. This was even rarer._

_"Yup, and won't you know it—the kid's father is the new Petalburg Gym Leader!"_

_"Wow! That's so cool! The kid of a gym leader!" Brendan practically shouted. Surely, whoever this kid was, he would know lots about Pokémon, perhaps even more than Brendan himself! Excitement welling inside of himself, Brendan dashed out of his room, much to his father's discontent, and ran outside of his own room, just to witness a brown-haired girl clad in a disgustingly plain white, sleeveless shirt and a denim skirt clamber out of the moving truck._

_Her piercing sapphire gaze met his sanguine, and her eyes narrowed. "Who are you?" She asked in a suspicious voice. Brendan thought her voice was very beautiful, like music to his ears, although of course he did not say this. Instead, he looked around, as if expecting someone else to exit from the moving truck._

_"Hey, I asked you a question." The brown-haired girl said poutingly._

_"Oh, hello, I'm Brendan Birch! I'm your new neighbor! Could you be the new gym leader's kid?" Brendan asked excitably._

_"Oh, hi! I'm May Maple, and yeah, I'm the gym leader's kid." May answered, sticking out her hand in a handshake._

_Brendan firmly grasped May's hand, marveling at how soft it was, compared to his own, rough hands at least. He immediately felt embarrassed of the many calluses on his right hand. "I thought you'd be a boy." Brendan stated, withdrawing his hand. May's eyes twinkled in defiance._

_"So, just 'cause I'm a little girl doesn't mean I can't be a gym leader's kid!" May replied, sticking out her tongue playfully._

_"But. . . ah, never mind." Brendan said, sticking out his own tongue. "But you certainly have a Pokémon?" Saying this, he sent out his Mudkip, who gurgled happily and immediately soaked May's face with a perfectly-aimed 'Water Gun' attack._

_"Actually, no." May answered, as water dripped down her brown hair and onto her bare shoulders._

_"Oh, really?" Brendan asked curiously, pulling out a red handkerchief from his pocket. "Here, wipe your face with this." He handed her the handkerchief._

_"Thanks, Brendan." May said gratefully, and proceeded to wipe her face with the red silk napkin. After she had finished, she made a gesture to return it to him._

_"Nah, you keep it. You look like you'd need it more than I do, anyways." Brendan said, shaking his head and returning his Mudkip before he could do further damage._

_"Thanks again, Brendan!" May beamed, tucking the handkerchief in her pocket. "We're gonna be best friends! The very best!"_

_"Yeah!" Brendan agreed happily. He noted how closely her eyes resembled sapphires._

_End Flashback_

Brendan decided it was a little ironic how they would soon be separated six years later, only to be thrust onto the exact same ferry five years after that. But. . . cold realization began frothing inside the pit of his stomach. Wouldn't they just be torn away again? The thought was troubling. He had assumed, up to this point, that they would be traveling together, but now. . . now he wasn't so sure.

He hardened his resolve to ask May if they could travel together as soon as he could. This was mainly for the sake that they would not be separated again, but also for the sake of another, peculiar feeling that seemed to be blooming inside of himself, the likes of which he had never felt before.

**Author's Notes:**

First chapter done. Phew. Now, could you please press that attractive little lavender-blue square button on the bottom-left corner of the screen that reads 'Go' and enter a few words and then (gasp) submit a review. . .? It won't kill you, I promise.

**Edit as of 12 / 12 / 2007: **Edited some stuff to make it flow easier. Nothing too major, though. Also changed the first A/N because I thought it was misleading the audience. Entered an excerpt. Lord, my writing sucks.


	2. New Rivals: Marina, Jimmy, and Silver

**The Johto Odyssey**  
by Galbinus

Hey ya! Galbinus from 2008 speaking here. Anyway, if you are a new reader, please continue doing so—and if you're an older reader coming back here out of boredom, perhaps, you might notice a little change after the whole Ilex Forest article, which is actually far more important than it appears to be.

Oops! Have I given too much away? (chuckle) Please do continue!

**Chapter Two—New Rivals: Marina, Jimmy, and Silver**

**Ferry from Johto to Kanto—4:51; September 3, 2007**

Maybelline Sapphire Maple awoke with a start, not quite knowing what it was that jerked her so swiftly from Dreamland to reality. Muttering darkly, she reluctantly opened her eyes, only to barely suppress a shriek as she saw her black-haired friend, donning his usual outfit, loom above herself. His dark red eyes seemed to sparkle with laughter, presumably at May's expression.

"Hey!" May grumbled, straightening up.

"Shhh," Brendan whispered, pressing a milky white finger to his thin lips. May grimaced, pushing herself off of her bed and found her furry slippers on the ground. Yawning silently, she found her red bandana and hastily tied it onto her head.

The black-haired Trainer motioned for her to follow him. Still muttering darkly, May followed her friend outside her door, careful to avoid waking her brother and cursing herself for forgetting to lock the door. _Anyone could have gotten in…!_ She scolded herself, but still followed Brendan. She stepped through her doorway, and followed Brendan down the escalator and into the main room of the Pokemon Center, which was currently deserted.

As she stepped through the sliding doorway, a sudden gust of cold, autumn wind hit May's side. Shivering, she pulled her pajamas closer to herself. Brendan seemed to notice this, and selflessly took off his own vest and put it on May's back; thankfully he had been wearing a black shirt underneath.

"Thanks, Brendan," May said quietly. Brendan nodded and they proceeded down the deck.

The sun was just rising, and had cast its first rays on the wooden floor, illuminating it a soft orange-pink. Brendan led May down to the bow of the ferry. Nobody else was out yet, and for this May was glad, since she thought she might make a fool of herself with her bright red pajamas, and for some reason unknown to herself she simply wanted to be alone with Brendan.

May could see her own breath, and could also see Brendan's. They stood in silence, watching the magenta waves ripple with the slightest breeze and turn to fuchsia under brighter sunlight. She vaguely wondered why Brendan had brought her out to see all of this, but found his company comforting in itself. Then, she began wondering if Brendan had turned any different from the ten-year-old boy she remembered him last as—meticulous, studious, yet sometimes annoyingly sarcastic, and adorable. Shortly after that she made a mental note to slap herself after she had thought the last description.

After a couple of minutes, the sun had fully risen, but nobody was out yet. Brendan broke the silence and turned to May. "Um, May, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot." May said, leaning on the railing to look patiently at Brendan.

"Can… I mean, I was just thinking, er, can I travel with you and Max?" Brendan blurted, blushing. May looked at him quizzically, and considered his offer for approximately half a second.

"Sure, why not?" May answered happily, hugging her friend around the midriff. Brendan simply beamed at her, and the two passed the next half-hour by contentedly gazing at the sea, until people began streaming out of their rooms. They bade each other good-bye and headed back towards their respective rooms.

Unsurprisingly, May fell back on her bed and fell asleep again.

**Ferry from Johto to Kanto—8:51; September 3, 2007**

Brendan Ruby Birch peeled open his emerald backpack, removing various items that he would not need and rearranging those that he would need. All of his empty Pokeballs he kept in the front pocket of his bag. He had a spare sack of tissues, but since he could not foresee a situation in the future where he would require lots of tissue, he left that on his bedside table.

He made a note to buy more sandwich supplies at New Bark Town's newly built Pokemart, since he was rather low on those, although he still had a few spare peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches which he kept in the same pocket as his Pokeballs. May… at the thought of her, his stomach fluttered with a strange sensation but he ignored it and continued the organization of his backpack.

"Hmmm…" Brendan mused aloud, pulling out his yellow-cuffed black jacket, which had been lying crumpled and folded at the very bottom of the main chamber of his backpack. He smoothed it out and refolded it, then tucked it back inside his backpack, then followed suit for his spare pair of black, yellow-cuffed pants. His red glasses case he kept tucked by the side of his clothes.

The black-haired Trainer wondered whether or not he should design a new outfit for May… her current wardrobe, if his memory didn't fail him, was of Brendan's design. Again, his mind began wondering to a time eight years ago…

_Flashback_

"_Brendan, c'mon, tell us, what do you have?" May's voice asked excitably. The seven-year-old girl's hair was pulled back in a casual ponytail, and her blue eyes sparkled with electricity._

_"Yeah, Brendan, what did you get May and me?" Wally asked eagerly._

_"Hold on, you two, I'm coming already!" Brendan's voice, annoyed, came from behind the door. A split second later, he had barged through the doorway, clutching in both hands some clothes. He himself, though, was simply wearing a T-shirt and jeans._

_"Clothes? That's it?" May asked dishearteningly, folding her arms over her chest._

_"Not just any old clothes…" Brendan said grandly. He pulled out several, different-sized short-sleeved collared red vests, a thin zipper running through each middle and a black circle print underneath the collars._

_"Wow, is that for me?" May squealed happily; at Brendan's slow nod, she jumped up from her seat and grabbed the vest. She stretched it out in front of herself, incoherent words frothing from her mouth._

_"Wait, but that's not all," Brendan said trepidatiously; he lifted several long, sleeveless white shirts up and handed it to May. "That's what you should wear under your vest," Brendan explained, indicating the different-sized white shirts; "And this is what you should wear on your legs." He gave May four pairs of sleek shorts, and the brown-haired girl accepted it._

_"Thank you so much!" May beamed, hugging all of her clothes. Brendan smiled smugly and proceeded to Wally._

_"Wally, here, this is your outfit," Brendan said, handing Wally different-sized long-sleeved white shirts, short-sleeved army green jackets, and long green pants a shade greener than Wally's hair color of yellow moss. The golden-green-haired boy carefully and breathlessly accepted his gift, as if afraid he might tear it apart simply by speaking._

_"Thanks, Brendan!" Wally finally said, frail arms shaking with gratitude._

_"No problem," Brendan said, a secretive smile on his face. Then, turning with a secretive smile towards May, he said, "Just wait 'till you see my outfit."_

_End Flashback_

Seeing May wearing the largest version of the outfit he had designed for her made Brendan feel inexplicably warm inside. He had thought that over the years May would outgrow the somewhat childish uniform he had bestowed upon her so long ago, but she seemed to have insisted on wearing it throughout the years…

Of course, the systematic side of Brendan reminded himself, this could be for several reasons. Perhaps the clothes he made were really comfortable (Brendan snorted at this—he had only been eight when he had woven them all, and surely May grew in different ways that Brendan had predicted when he was small); or perhaps she simply did not have time to buy more clothes, which was by far more likely, albeit still rather far-fetched.

A part of Brendan wanted to know, but the other part didn't. The rest of him was wondering with amusement why he was fretting over something as small as this; and, succumbing to his third state of mind, Brendan pushed his Pokeblock case, sack of food including some leftover peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches he ate for the previous night's dinner, and Itemfinder inside the main chamber of his backpack. He decided he could stuff another item in the 'Key Item's part of his backpack, and so stiffly forced his fold-up Mach Bike inside.

The secondary main chamber of his backpack was solely dedicated to healing items. Several pink hyper potions were lined up neatly inside, and the rest was stuffed with light-yellow tablets—"Revives"—and in a small corner of his chamber he had stowed two bright-yellow spray-type Full Heals.

He cupped all of his berries into his right hand, having transformed most of them into Pokeblocks which were currently residing peacefully in his Pokeblock case. Using his teeth, Brendan flipped open a side pocket of his bag, and dumped all of his berries in there.

The other side pocket—the right one—was significantly larger than the left side, and here he kept all of his TM's and HM's in his TM and HM case. These discs were rare to come by, and occasionally he would use them to instantaneously teach his Pokemon a move. Brendan's TM and HM case, thankfully, was not very large, and in the other half of this side pocket he could stow all of his Pokemon's Hold Items.

Brendan then finished reorganizing his backpack. The one bottle of water he had, he would keep in his hands most of the time, and when he couldn't, he would strap it on his bottle green leather Pokeball belt—handily, he had added a contraption where he could keep miscellaneous objects, and here a water bottle would fit perfectly.

Stretching, Brendan slung on his backpack and strapped on his green Pokeball belt, where six gleaming Pokeballs had been clipped on. He pushed open his door, sidestepped a crying child and wondered where the kid's parents disappeared off to, and headed down the escalator. There were about perhaps a dozen people already in the Pokemon Center—several of them were lining up to heal their Pokemon, and a somewhat fatigued-looking Nurse Joy was accepting all of their Pokeballs. Marina and Jimmy were in this line as well, and thankfully they were not arguing—Brendan did not feel like acting as a mediator.

He wondered where May had gone to; she was most likely still sleeping. Max, though, Brendan had utterly no idea. Shrugging, he took a place in the line behind Jimmy, who groggily addressed Brendan with a 'hello'. Brendan nodded in greeting, deciding that he might as well cure his Aggron of its Paralysis status. _Stupid Pikachu's 'Static' ability, _he thought darkly to himself.

After a while, in which Brendan entertained himself by replaying several memorable moments of him and May in their childhood—though exactly why he did so, Brendan was not quite sure himself—and when his turn came, Brendan pushed all six of his Pokeballs into the kindly pink-haired nurse behind the counter. During the few short seconds that the nurse took to heal his Pokemon, he fiddled with his Trainer Identification Card and Contest Pass, the two of which were protruding a little too much from the small card-holder on his backpack's strap.

The nurse then finished and pushed all of Brendan's Pokeballs back to him with a cheery, "Thank you!" before attending to the next Trainer. Hurriedly, he clipped his Pokeballs back onto his belt and looked around, still unable to spot May.

As if on cue, the brown-haired Coordinator burst down the escalator, looking around wildly. "Did I miss breakfast?" She asked frantically, after spotting Brendan as he seated himself comfortably on a sofa.

He paused for a moment before bracing himself for the explosion and answering, "Yes."

May's jaw dropped open in despair—before she could let out the anguish wail that was certain to come, Brendan hurriedly amended, "But you can have a peanut-butter-jelly sandwich."

"Oh, can I?" May asked, sapphire eyes glazing with excitement. A smile tugged at Brendan's pale lips as he watched May collapse on the floor, practically begging Brendan now, "Please? Pretty please? With a cherry on top?"

The black-haired Trainer let out a quiet chuckle at May's childish and adorable antics; he was glad to see that at least one thing did not change over the years, and Brendan found himself wondering—hoping—if other aspects of May's personality had changed. "Hmm… I don't know, May…" He trailed off suggestively.

"Please?" The brown-haired Coordinator's voice was almost pleading now. Succumbing to May's 'puppy-eyes', Brendan pulled out a neatly-wrapped sandwich from the main chamber of his bag and tossed it to May, who caught it and immediately straightened up.

Then, she opened her mouth as if to take a large bite out of the sandwich, but Brendan quickly snatched the sandwich out of her hands. Before she could exclaim in indignation, Brendan removed the plastic-wrap covering and handed the sandwich back to her.

"Oh, thanks," May said, somewhat dully as she realized how she was prepared to eat the sandwich, wrap and all. Then, with renewed vigor, she swiftly devoured the sandwich in a matter of seconds. Seemingly satisfied, she plopped herself on the seat next to Brendan.

"Say, May, where did Max go?" Brendan asked with vague interest, eying a new wrangle between Jimmy and Marina half-heartedly.

"I think he went outside. Whatever. I don't care. If he gets lost the better," May said, voice dripping with contempt. Brendan almost shuddered at the maliciousness of May's voice, but thought better of it, as he reminded himself just how annoying younger siblings could be.

Before Brendan could ask May another question though, perhaps one pertaining to the ever-looming uncertainty of just where they were going to go after they left the ferry, Marina actually burst into tears. Deciding that he may as well show some compassion for the cerulean-haired girl, who was looking rather pathetic, Brendan shuffled over to Jimmy and Marina. He noticed May follow him, but redirected his attention to the present problem.

"What's wrong?" Brendan asked Marina in his calmest, most soothing voice, alighting his right gloved hand on the blue-haired girl's trembling features. He thought he spotted jealousy flicker over May's otherwise blissfully happy feature, but thinking that uncharacteristic of the bubbly Coordinator, brushed away the thought.

"Jimmy—he—he—" Marina sobbed, the end of her sentence transforming into a raucous wail. Turning patronizingly toward the base-ball cap wearing boy, a frown formed on Brendan's face as he saw the boy's expression turn into one of defiance. "He called my Jigglypuff UGLY!"

There was dead silence after that, in the entire room. For everyone knew that NOBODY called a girl's Jigglypuff ugly.

"Well, she called my Typhlosion weak," Jimmy snapped back. Brendan felt torn between the desire to laugh and the desire to cry.

With all the patience of a kindergarten teacher explaining algebra to toddlers, Brendan said in a slow voice, "How old are you two, anyway?"

"Uh, I'm fifteen, and Marina is also fifteen," Jimmy supplied apprehensively, answering for Marina as she continued to sob into her fists.

"I see. Would you say then that this is an appropriate way for fifteen-year-olds to behave?" Brendan asked through tight lips. He thought he heard a faint giggle from May.

"I guess not." Jimmy said apologetically with just the faintest trace of a scowl on his grimace. Turning towards his blue-haired traveling companion, he murmured what appeared to be a 'sorry', because Marina stopped crying a few moments later. In fact, the cerulean-haired girl even managed to smile at Brendan.

Sighing as the matter was resolved, Brendan turned wearily towards May, who exclaimed unexpectedly, "Wow! Brendan, that was really great!"

"Was it?" Brendan asked weakly, rubbing his hand against his temples.

"Yeah, I guess… hey, look, it's the next issue of Contest Freak!" May said to herself distractedly, plucking a purple-covered magazine from the stand next to her sofa. Brendan glanced at his emerald wrist-watch. 9:01. Taking out the ferry ticket from the small card-holder on his backpack strap, he checked the exit time—9:30.

Deciding that there was still a generous amount of time left, he tucked the ferry ticket back inside the card-holder and learned over to the magazine stand, plucking out a random one. He found himself staring at an a well-shot photo of the Battle Frontier; a smirk graced his angular face as he remembered Scott, the vociferous albeit slightly plump, advocate for the Battle Frontier battling facility, who had pestered Brendan repeatedly over the years to challenge the Battle Frontier after he had read an article about Brendan's achievements in the "Battle Zone" magazine.

Shaking away the sunglasses-wearing man's image from his mind, Brendan glanced at the magazine he was holding in his own hand to notice that it was titled "Traveling—Johto." Shrugging as he vaguely wondered what the Battle Frontier was doing in Johto, he flipped open to a random page.

_Ilex Forest—A Mystery Unraveled_

_A __Johto Rougher__ Article_

_By Mimi S._

_Ilex Forest—a mysterious relic of the modernized region's past. Located in southern Johto, directly west of Azalea Town, this forest's trees are clustered so closely together that it is almost impossible to see one's way without employing occasionally groping._

_The trees that grow here are largely deciduous owing to southern Johto's warm and humid climate, although in the northern areas of this forest, which is approximately 65 square miles, coniferous trees, mostly evergreens, grow. Many different species of Pokemon thrive in Ilex Forest, consisting mainly of common bug Pokemon such as Weedle and Caterpie. Hoothoot live in this forest as well, although they are admittedly uncommon owing to their reluctance to leave their homes in the trees._

_A large, half-mile square lake with two three-meter wide tributaries feeding into it. According to folklore, a Suicune once purified the water not too long ago, although there is a questionable amount of evidence. However, it is worthy to note that the water is unusually pure and has been deemed safe for human consumption by the Johto Science Team; still, it is advisable to pack one's own water in a canteen before entering Ilex Forest._

_An interesting legend still circulates this day among the villages that surround Ilex Forest; it is the legend of the Forest Guardian, otherwise known as Celebi. There have indeed been several eyewitness accounts of the legendary grass-and-psychic typed Pokemon, which resembles a green pixie and has bug-like antennae on its light-green face and is able to float in the air of its own accord (most likely owing to its psychic abilities), although none of the sources are exceptionally reliable._

_Perhaps the most famous eyewitness account of this alleged Celebi was one reported by Diana Hemmingway, the current Keeper of Keys for the main gate to the forest, although there are several side entrances, though the majority of these side entrances are often blocked by clumps __of bushes and therefore it is not advisable to go in. Ms. Hemmingway, aged twenty-five, claims that in the spring of 2002, Celebi, who is thought to have the ability of time travel, tele-trasnported a boy of age fifteen or so to the entrance-exit of Ilex Forest._

_Ms. Hemmingway then goes on to claim that she—as well as several others consisting of a Kanto boy by the name of Ash Ketchum, Cerulean City's current gym leader, Misty Waterflower, Pewter City's ex-gym leader Brock Slate, the time-traveling Johto-native Sammy Oak, who shares the same name as Kanto's current Professor Oak (though Professor Oak declines comment on this matter), and Ms. Hemmingway's grandmother—becomes a part of a story that, despite being five years old, is still a fresh gossiping topic for the inhabitants of the small villages outside of Ilex Forest, tells of a Dark Ball Master's attempt to capture Celebi._

_In Ms. Hemmingway's story, Suicune, who later purifies the lake water in an attempt to save a severely injured Celebi according to this story, ends up being a crucial player in the keeping of the welfare of the forest, which had been serious threatened by the Dark Ball Master, who had managed to obtain control over Celebi by use of a Dark Ball (a forbidden item Rank B, listed in the Pokemon League's Official Rules). Evidently, though, Mr. Ketchum and Mr. Oak manage to find a way to snap Celebi out of its 'hypnotic'-state, and they manage to save the entire Ilex Forest._

_Although this entire story is rather ludicrous, there still remains the unnatural purity of the lake water as evidence, though since then none other confirmed sightings of Suicune or Celebi have occurred._

_All in all, Johto's Ilex Forest is a good place for Bug-typed Pokemon fanatics to capture more Bug-typed Pokemon. Its lake is also worth a visit. Various Pokemon tourist groups offer tours to Ilex Forest and the surrounding mountains, although one may attempt to go by themselves. However, it is advised to bring a strong flying-typed Pokemon for fast escape. I personally can recommend Salamence, one of which I had on my team, for their sharp wings can easily tear through the forest canopy in severe cases of escape. (F)_

Finishing the column, Brendan found himself frowning slightly, though he couldn't quite remember why… it was comparable to him having a dream and then waking up knowing that he did indeed have the dream and then forget the content of the dream. He brushed the thought away from his mind and pushed the magazine back onto its stand, then picked it back up and reread it, taking note of some well-shot photographs adorning the right of the article. The forest appeared very dark. In another photo, he noticed a very circular lake, and the interesting effect the sunlight had on it as it bounced off the silvery surface of the water.

After his second read, he pushed the magazine back into the stand for the final time. Glancing at his watch, he noted that it was 9:20.

As if on cue, the intercom system buzzed into life and the wheezing voice of an aged man began speaking in a forcibly formal manner, "Good morning, ladies, gentlemen, and Pokemon. We are approaching New Bark Town Port, which is about a mile away from New Bark Town itself, and will arrive in ten minutes. Current temperature is a cool eighteen degrees Celsius and current weather is sunny, without a single cloud in the sky. Please report to port, which is the left side of the ship, as quickly as possible, and don't forget any personal belongings. The S.S. Tidal is not responsible for any personal loss."

As soon as the message ended, there was a wild stampede towards the sliding red door of the Pokemon Center. He then looked to May, about to ask her if they should go look for Max, but at that precise moment the azure-haired boy had wriggled his way through the throng and began crying obnoxiously, "Sister, where are we to go?"

May shot her brother a death glare, lightly-tanned face flushing scarlet as several exiting passengers shot her patronizing stares. Then, turning towards Brendan, she cleared her throat. "Ah-hem. I do believe we should get going?"

"Yes," Brendan replied in a mockingly formal voice, causing May to roll her eyes playfully. The black-haired Trainer found himself marveling at the cuteness of her exasperated expression, but he was jerked out of his reverie by an impatient Max tugging at his emerald backpack.

"Hey, Brendan, shouldn't we get going? Look, even Marina and Jimmy are leaving," Max said anxiously, pointing at the aforementioned. Indeed, the usually-bickering two were exiting through the red sliding doors.

"Yes," Brendan said redundantly, stretching quickly and heading towards the door, making sure that May and Max were following him. He squinted his eyes as he stepped outside; the captain had not been lying—it _was_ really sunny.

The black-haired Trainer heard an amazed gasp from May, who rushed out from behind him and practically flung herself at the starboard side of the ship. Brendan, intrigued, followed her while Max snuck back inside the Pokemon Center. As he looked out to the sea, he found out what was interesting May—herds of various water-typed Pokemon were leaping in and out of the surface of the sea, parallel to the movement of the ship, which was slowly decreasing in speed as they neared.

Giggling, May pointed a gloved finger towards an odd, golden Luvdisc, its yellow sheen conspicuous among its fellow Luvdisc's pink, "Hey! Look at that weird-colored Luvdisc!"

Brendan noticed the Pokemon, and realized that its coloring was exceptionally rare. Subconsciously, his right hand drifted towards his backpack and pulled out an empty Pokeball. Then, without really thinking, he hurled it at the Luvdisc, who, with a confused "Diisc!" was sucked inside the capsule in a beam of red light.

He felt May's perturbed sapphire stare on his face, but he didn't look, busy murmuring under his breath, "Come on come on come on come on!"

However, after a few moments, the Luvdisc burst out of the Pokeball. Heavily disappointed, Brendan felt all of his hopes of capturing the golden fish disperse. Unexpectedly, though, Marina suddenly appeared by his side. Perplexed, he turned towards the cerulean-haired girl, who giggled as his eyes met her own, a curious shade of sea-green, but before he could ask a question she had opened a Pokeball of her own by clicking on the button in the middle.

A Croconaw burst out of the spherical instrument, bubbling into existence in the water. Brendan then saw Jimmy appear by Marina's side, an uncharacteristic scowl on his face as Marina continued giggling. "Wani-Wani, find that golden Luvdisc!"

The Big Jaw Pokemon gave a curt nod and a grumbling "Alleee," before submerging under the water. After half a minute passed, Brendan began wondering if Marina's Croconaw would still be able to find the Luvdisc—from personal experience he knew that Luvdisc were slippery and disgustingly evasive—but Wani-Wani soon emerged with a quiet splash. Clamped within the Croconaw's two jaws was the golden Luvdisc, who was squirming uncomfortably.

"Perfect, Wani-Wani!" Marina beamed, reaching for an empty Pokeball in her backpack, throwing it into the air directly above her head for some strange reason and then shuffling backwards. Brendan wondered why she had not thrown it directly at the struggling Luvdisc, but the reason soon became clear as Marina kicked the Pokeball with unerring accuracy.

The Pokeball careened through the air at a velocious speed and practically slammed into the Luvdisc's side. The black-haired Trainer thought he saw the golden Luvdisc wince painfully at the impact, but was soon sucked into the Pokeball, which landed in the sea and began bobbing up and down as the Luvdisc struggled to break free.

Brendan held his breath as the Pokeball rocked violently back and forth, and then finally slowed to a stop. Marina's Croconaw then obediently tossed the still Pokeball back towards Marina, who caught it deftly with her right and. With a cheerful wink and a happy, "Good job, Wani-Wani!" she returned her Croconaw and, smiling, pushed the Pokeball into Brendan's hands.

"Take it." Marina said, suppressing a giggle. Brendan, suppressing a frown of his own, plastered on an uncertain smile and took the Pokeball somewhat shakily, impressed by Marina's Pokeball-throwing skills.

"Wow… thanks." Brendan said, hoping he didn't sound as unconfident as he was feeling. Marina waved him off, the giggle she had been trying to suppress escaping out of her throat; it was then that Brendan noticed how Jimmy and May wore identical uncharacteristically nasty sneers, but when they seemed to realize that Brendan was looking at them, resumed awfully fake happy expressions.

Brendan had initially wanted to capture the Luvdisc for May—but deciding that he would offend Marina by offering her gift to the brown-haired Coordinator, he simply smiled weakly back at Marina's wide grin; then feeling that he should say something to express his gratitude in a better way, he said, "Uh… so… uh… Do you want to come with us to New Bark Town?"

The words blurted out of his mouth before he could contain himself. Brendan then made a mental note to buy more coffee at the next Pokemart, as he had clearly not been thinking straight when he gave the suggestion. He noticed with a great fear out of the corner of his left eye that May was giving him an appalled glare, and then noticed with even greater fear a 'I'm-going-to-kill-you-as-soon-as-nobody-is-looking' look Jimmy was shooting at him.

However, Marina simply beamed at him and exclaimed, "Yeah! That would be great! I'd love to travel with you guys for a while! I'm sure Jimmy wouldn't mind coming along as well…"

Before Brendan could say anything, though, May, whose face had been a reckonable shade of red, spotted Max, who was sneaking out of the Pokemon Center with a questionable bulge underneath his shirt. Face accusing, May asked in an unnecessarily harsh voice, as if she were dishing upon her younger brother some osrt of pent-up distress, "What are you doing, Max?"

"Shh!" Max hushed significantly, glasses glazing over; he looked around himself as if a murderous Nurse Joy might suddenly appear out of thin air and start throttling him. "I'm smuggling some magazines out!"

Almost instantaneously, May's suspicious expression turned into one of interest. "Did you get 'Contest Freak' and 'Coordinator Weekly'?"

"Yeah. I also got 'NeoBattling,' 'Trainers Today', 'The Breeding Magazine', several issues of 'Traveling: Johto', and 'Celebrities Now'—"

The young boy was interrupted by an excited squeal from Marina, who began asking at a fervent speed, "Oh em gee! Was, like, _Lance_ on the cover?"

"Uh… that redheaded Dragon-specializing Elite Four?" Max asked, looking bewildered.

"Yeah! That's the one! Him and his gorgeous cape…" Marina trailed off in a lustrous sigh, which caused Jimmy to relinquish his glare on Brendan and raise a bemused eyebrow.

"Uh, I think…" Max said uncertainly, glancing at his sister as if for directions. May distracted the entire group, though, by pointing at the left side of the ship, where the ferry was slowing to a stop. A man on the dock had extended a long, sturdy wooden plank, and the passengers were filing off the ship.

"I guess we should go then, huh?" Brendan said at last when nobody else said anything. May and Jimmy nodded reluctantly; Marina snapped out of her reverie and breathed a breathless "Yeah!"; Max looked fearfully over his shoulder, undoubtedly on the lookout for a furious Nurse Joy.

Brendan began striding towards the slowly dissipating crowd in front of the plank, feeling somewhat self-conscious as he took the lead for the five-personed group but a little more confident when they all began following him, though, admittedly, at differing speeds: Jimmy skulked in the back, drifting behind a dreamy Marina, while May had appeared possessively by Brendan's side—Max sandwiched himself between the group, as if by hovering in the middle he would escape the watchful eyes of the ship's guards.

The black-haired Trainer shuffled down the plank, everybody following suit—fortunately for Max, the guards really had not seen him smuggling the magazines underneath his green T-shirt. The group proceeded to walk. It was not until they were out of sight of the entire port and treading on the dirt path that lead to New Bark Town that Marina began bursting into conversation with May.

"Hi, May! You said yesterday that you were a Pokemon Coordinator."

After a few seconds, May grudgingly ground out, "Yes."

"That's cool! I'm a Coordinator too!"

"… I thought you said you were a Pokemon idol."

"That, too! But I've actually attended some Pokemon Contests, as well… in fact, I won ten in total!"

May now glanced at Marina as if she was actually a human being. "You did?"

"Yep! I won all of the Contests I attended, actually."

With palpable intrigue now, May turned to eye Marina. "That's… impressive."

"Thanks!" Marina beamed. "I do train my Pokemon really hard. Say, what Pokemon do you have on your Team now?"

"Blaziken, Munchlax, Squirtle, and Eevee," May answered, counting off the Pokemon on her fingers as she did the previous day. "And you?" She asked, sounding as if she were asking the question only to sound polite. Brendan suppressed a snort of amusement and led the group down a turn in the road.

"Let's see… Misdreavous,"—at this point, Marina flashed Jimmy an angry glare—"Jigglypuff, Croconaw, and, yup, that's about it. _Jimmy_ here has Typhlosion and… er… Beedrill. I think that's it."

"Oh."

The group continued to walk in silence. Brendan strongly resisted the urge to start a conversation, as he was unsure that May would appreciate his sentiment. Though she had warmed up considerably to Marina, for some reason, the black-haired Trainer did not think that May liked the cerulean-haired Coordinator completely. Finally, curiosity overcoming fear of his own morality, Brendan asked Jimmy, "Are you really going to challenge the Pokemon League?"

Jimmy's voice was rather quiet as he was at the end of the group, but he still answered, "Yes."

"That's… er… cool. I am going to, too, I think."

"Oh?" There was definite interest in Jimmy's voice now, not dissimilar to May's when she had talked with Marina a few minutes ago. "And what Pokemon do you have?" He asked aggressively.

Brendan, displeased by Jimmy's churlish question, resolved to ignore the boy until he reworded his inquiry in a politer way. Seconds trickled away, and yet Jimmy had not said anything. Evidently, though, the baseball-capped Trainer was getting somewhat irritated by the lack of conversation and so said in an even ruder voice, "_Well?_"

Wondering what it was that was fuelling Jimmy's horrible attitude, Brendan retorted snappily, "None of your business."

Looking severely offended, Jimmy hissed, "Well, Marina told you _my_ Team lineup, so it would _only_ be polite of you to tell me yours."

"Excuse me?" Brendan asked in an infuriatingly calm and sarcastic voice. "I _do_ believe Marina was addressing May at the time."

A string of stringent insults left Jimmy's mouth, motivating Marina to utter an exasperated, "Jimmy!" Brendan simply looked smugly at Jimmy's angry expression, though the black-haired Trainer noticed with some apprehension that Jimmy's face was growing a menacing shade of purple.

They spent the better part of five minutes exchanging nasty sneers, though Brendan gave up in the first minute, owing to the fact that he was leading the group and he had no wish of dirtying his hand-sown clothes by tripping into a mud hole he could have easily avoided. The black-haired Trainer, however, suspected that Jimmy was still continuing in this activity, and once or twice Brendan caught Jimmy making inappropriate hand gestures with his right hand.

Finally, the unnamed Route came to an end. A sign was dangling from a crooked tree that read, "New Bark Town—The Town Where the Winds of a New Beginning Blow." Cocking an eyebrow at the odd slogan of the town, Brendan began taking a step forward, but was butted out of the way by a vociferous Jimmy, who hurled his way through the thicket of trees that separated the Route from New Bark Town. Brendan, glowering, reluctantly followed, and the rest of the group proceeded after him.

The town was small and altogether rather sanitary, though it had the look of a town recently renovated. The pungent reek of fresh paint wafted over from the walls of many houses, which were made of white brick and covered with rectangular light-green shingles. The overall feel of the small town, which could not have harbored more than several dozen houses in total, was not dissimilar from Littleroot Town. Feeling an unexpected pang of homesick, Brendan averted his gaze from the houses and looked at the lone Pokemon Center erected in the center of the small town. _Perfect! I need to heal my Pokemon—_

"Who's _that?_" Jimmy, from in front of Brendan, asked in a harsh voice. The baseball-capped Trainer was pointing in front of himself, where a flaming red-haired teenager garbed in a black jacket, purple jeans, a dark gray backpack, a crimson PokeBelt, and stout black boots sulked. Brendan's stomach lurched with recognition, though he couldn't _quite_ place who the redhead was… Perhaps in some crime show? The redhead certainly did emanate a dark demeanor that was complemented only too well by his lean and gangly physique.

"I don't know—I haven't seen him around New Bark Town before, that's for sure… then again, the last time I came back to this place was about a year ago…" Marina mused aloud, tilting her head to one side. Then, giggling slightly, Brendan heard her whisper to May, "That redhead's cute, isn't he?"

"A bit too creepy for my liking," May whispered back. Shuddering, she added, "He looks really mean, too."

Jimmy, after hearing Marina remark how 'cute' the redhead was, resumed a somewhat miffed expression and began muttering incoherently under his breath. Before Brendan or anyone else, for that matter, could restrain the baseball-capped boy, Jimmy had lunged forwards in the direction of the mean-looking redhead and demanded angrily, "Hey! Who are you? And what are you doing in New Bark Town?"

There was a lengthy delay. The redhead, who had previously been staring off into space, furrowed his brows agitatedly and turned edgily towards Jimmy, scarlet eyes glinting maliciously and with annoyance. A section of his red bangs fell into his left eye. "Silver."

"That's your name?" Jimmy asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. He was obviously contemplating the same question that was running through Brendan's mind: _A mineral for a name? _However, Brendan quickly reminded himself that his own middle name, Ruby, was a gemstone, and that he would die very quickly is someone found out it was such.

Silver paused for a few seconds before answering in a deadly quiet and deep voice, "Yes."

"You haven't answered my other questions yet!"

"Says who I have to?" Silver sneered, narrowing his eyes into slits. His right hand twitched towards the direction of his PokeBelt.

"Says… says I!"

Silver's hand stopped twitching, and he merely smirked distastefully, eying Jimmy the way one might eye a slug on a piece of lettuce in a salad. "You're not worth my time." The redhead then stalked away, shooting one last glare at Jimmy before disappearing behind a curve in the street.

"Hmph! I don't like him." Jimmy said immediately after Silver disappeared.

"I'm sure you don't." Marina commented dryly. Turning towards May, Brendan, and Max, who was busy reading 'NeoBattling', she said, "I guess we should part now. Jimmy needs to find his mother, and I'm sure you're going to the next Contest Hall, which is in Cherrygrove City, or the next Gym, which is in Violet City. Follow Route 29, which is due west, and you should get to Cherrygrove, and if you want to go to Violet City, go north on Route 30 and then west on Route 31."

"Thanks," Brendan said in what he hoped was a gracious way. Marina beamed at him and grabbed Jimmy's hand, waving at Brendan, May, and Max before they, too, disappeared around a bend in the road. Looking towards May and Max, Brendan asked, "Should we spend the night here, then?" while indicating the Pokemon Center.

"Sure, sure," May said cheerily, noticeably happier after Marina and Jimmy had left; Brendan wondered why. Max grunted his approval, nose buried in his magazine, and together the three headed towards the Pokemon Center.

**Pokémon © Satoshi Tajiri  
****Story © Galbinus****  
OCs © Their respective owners**

**Do not take without permission****  
Reviews are greatly appreciated**


	3. Unpleasant Encounters

**Hey everyone! I'm back with another installation of **_**Johto Adventures! **_

**I'm accepting OCs for this story. Please see the ending's Author Notes for more information, though I wish you'd read the story first.**

**You might be wondering why Brendan felt like he had to heal his Pokemon immediately after he had just healed it on the S.S. Tidal. . . –shifty eyes– Well, er, that's cause he got this disease, y'see, and it makes one want to heal their Pokemon more often than is required.**

**Brendan: WHO has a disease?!**

**Me: Er. . er. . Back to the story!**

**Well, enjoy! And remember, reviews are muchly loved.. 3**

**Chapter Three: Unpleasant Encounters**

**New Bark Town—10:13, September 3: Monday**

After wandering around the streets of New Bark Town for roughly twenty minutes, getting lost twice and winding up in the exact same spot four times, the three managed to find their way to the Pokemon Center. Maxson Maple, nose still buried determinedly in his magazine, ended up accidentally smacking into the counter of the Pokemon Center before looking up, shaking his head, and wandering to a nearby bright red sofa as Brendan and May registered for a room in the Pokemon Center.

The blue-haired boy was contentedly reading about various ways to breed certain moves onto certain Pokemon—he was mainly concerned with the Ralts family, for he intended his first Pokemon to be the Ralts he had once cared for about two years ago. Max wondered vaguely whether the Ralts he found was a girl or boy; if it was a girl, he would allow it to evolve naturally into a Gardevoir, though if it were a boy, Max thought he would rather it evolve into a Gallade. He then realized with an unexpected jolt in the pit of his stomach that Brendan had a Gallade—or so the black-haired teenager claimed, though Max dimly remembered Brendan to be a honest person on the whole—and resolved to ask Brendan just how he evolved his Kirlia into one.

However, the nine-year-and-one-month-old boy was distracted by his sister snatching the magazine irritably out of his hands. Unable to suppress an instinctive, "Hey!", he received only a sharp whack on his head from the very magazine that he had been reading. Eye-watering, he suppressed the urge to scream 'Child Abuse!', but he reluctantly followed his sister and Brendan up the escalator, gloomily eying the happy young Trainers on the first floor as they passed into the second floor.

"Two thirty-five," May's high-pitched voice sounded out a foot above Max's throbbing head, and the 'click' of a key being inserted inside a doorknob and then the resolute 'clack' of the doorknob being turned by a key later, Max found himself being ushered roughly into a well-lit room.

Clutching the large bump on his head and whimpering pitifully, the blue-haired boy spared a look around himself. The carpet was of a light beige color, the standard carpet-color for various Pokemon Centers, though this one had been interlaced with sepia-brown thread as if to accentuate 'New Bark Town's very name. There were two double-decker beds; the white sheets and pillows on each of the four beds were folded neatly into a pile on where the sleeper was supposed to lay his, her, or its head.

Max stretched and reluctantly took his hand off of his head. He heard May sling her dandelion fanny pack onto the wooden post of one of the beds; Brendan seemed to be tidying up the rectangular desk sticking out of the wall opposite of the door, and Max recalled vaguely that Brendan was a rather well-known 'neat freak'. The blue-haired boy wondered how, then, that the black-haired Trainer could stand running all of those errands for his father that implied more often than not a lot of dirtying of hands, and then he decided that Brendan probably didn't like all of them very much.

Regardless, the black-haired Trainer still plastered on a cheery expression most of the time. Max remembered that sometimes, however, his façade would slip and he would mutter pessimistic words under his breath; these brief mistakes, however, would instantly be corrected with a, 'Never mind, we'll do better next time!'

Sighing, Max clambered onto a lower-bed and, leaning against the wall, propped his magazine onto his knees and began reading again. He immersed himself in fast ways of breeding 'Dragon Dance' to Larvitar.

**New Bark Town—11:45, September 3: Monday**

Maybelline Sapphire Maple giggled girlishly as a crowd of children, far too young to be certified League Trainers, congregated around her Eevee, who was the center of attention. The DNA Pokemon appeared to be enjoying herself; hopping importantly on the edge of the fountain that was in the center of the Town Square, the coffee-colored Pokemon gave a series of meows that coaxed exclamations of delight from the girls and amazed raising-of-eyebrows from the boys.

"They seem to all really like your Eevee, May," Brendan, who was standing besides the brown-haired Coordinator at the time, noted carefully. Though it was rather obvious, if one took the time to examine the facial expressions of each and every one of the members of the rapidly growing crowd, he or she would notice that Brendan's words were true.

"Yeah," May agreed happily, as, one-by-one, several children strode up to the Eevee and brushed her hair admiringly, cooing 'aww's as they did so. She spared an oblique glance towards Brendan in the faint hope that he would remove his vest, though she began wondering why; at the thought that Brendan and her were sharing rooms, she could not help but allow a soft giggle to escape from her throat.

Brendan, thankfully, was too preoccupied with observing May's Eevee to notice the growing number of glances May was stealing at him. After two minutes, however, he turned towards her and remarked, "I gotta admit, May, your Eevee's fur is really healthy-looking. I take that you spend a lot of time brushing it?"

Nodding earnestly, May replied, "Oh, yes. I spend at least half an hour every day brushing her fur in the morning, and also a few minutes right before and after each Contest Appeal or Battle."

"That's a pretty good routine." Brendan said, looking sincerely impressed. May's heart swelled at his praise, even if it was not the best of the best—she had become so used to taking Drew's frequent criticisms that a single compliment was a rare thing that would come to her.

Thinking of Drew made May's insides clench and unclench. She didn't want to waste her time thinking about _him, _anyways; shouldn't May be thinking about more important things, like exactly how Brendan, Max, and her were to get to Cherrygrove City? But the more May didn't want to think about Drew, the more she did. The brunette recalled all those times Drew defeated her in the Contests—she recalled with a satisfying feeling the one time she managed to defeat Drew—and then, oddly enough, she recalled the one time she watched the vermillion sunset with him.

_Wait, what? Why am I thinking about that beautiful, gorgeous, romantic sunset that I saw with Drew? _May questioned herself, blinking repeatedly. Why indeed? Why was she thinking of the incredibly hot—wait, no, no—green-haired teenager and his rippled muscles? Why, especially when she was with Brendan? May had wanted to savor the moment in time she could steal a chat with the black-haired Trainer, her best friend who she had not seen for four and a half years.

Perhaps it was Brendan's own physique that reminded May so of Drew. Both were very attractive—_wait, no, don't think that, May—_and both seemed to emanate insane hormones that made May want to do crazy things, like leap off the nearest building simply to impress them. Once, in fact, right before a Contest, May had seriously pondered that last option but stopped herself in time, reasoning that if Team Rocket had decided to so unceremoniously show up, she could have been in serious trouble.

Reluctantly forcing her attention back to her Eevee, who had begun her regular 'Shadow Ball' routine for the entertainment of the kids, May noticed a teenaged girl loitering around a nearby shop. It wasn't the exact presence of the girl that bothered her, but rather the way that she would constantly shoot chartreuse glares at May's Eevee and tug menacingly on her own silky raven hair, which had been contained in a sleek ponytail held in place by a torn piece of periwinkle fabric.

She was just about to say how she did not like the look of the girl to Brendan, when suddenly the Trainer approached the crowd of children, who immediately quieted upon the black-haired girl's arrival, and said in a medium-pitched voice that sounded forcibly courteous, "Excuse me, but I could not help but notice your Eevee's—ah—Shadow Ball appeal. If it is your Eevee?"

May was utterly bewildered by the girl's question. She had expected something along the lines of an insult at the very least. But a polite inquiry? Something smelled rather fishy, though May could not place a finger on it. However, deciding that she should treat the black-haired girl with equal cordiality—even though Brendan narrowed his sanguine eyes suspiciously at the waiting girl—May answered, "Uh, yep. That's my Eevee." Then, unable to stop herself, she added, "She's one of my best Pokemon, a really good Contest Appealer, and a great battler at that. Although sometimes a little mischievous."

The black-haired girl, whom May noticed after closer examination was wearing a high-collared buttoned crimson waist coat that covered her actual shirt and most of her dark-clothed pants and whose hair was gray-tipped, seemed a little surprised, as if she did not expect May's answer to be so. Nevertheless, the girl continued to press, "So, you're a Coordinator?"

"Uh. . . yeah." May said uncertainly, unnerved by the girl's questions. Brendan's eyes now narrowed into slits, and his left eyebrow disappeared into his mass of black hair as he studied the black-haired girl.

"Oh, really?" The girl said, more to herself than anyone else. She drew closer, perturbing bottle-green eyes scanning May's expression and clothes with professional speed. May began feeling highly uncomfortably, though despite this noticed that the girl was of roughly equal height to herself. The brunette could have sworn that Brendan's right hand jerked towards the direction of his Pokeball-belt, but then the black-haired girl had suddenly drew away, leaving May feeling very relieved. "Huh."

The crowd of children was dissipating now that Eevee was no longer the 'center of attention'. The DNA Pokemon did not look especially glad or saddened, but somewhat miffed that the various kids had decided to leave after her display, though did not bark angrily after them—May thanked Latios that her Eevee was of a shy nature towards strangers (though for some reason, children were not included), else she might have leapt onto the black-haired girl in anger that the human had 'stolen her thunder'.

"Well, that's interesting." The black-haired girl mused, scratching the side of her chin. "Are you, perhaps, Maybelline Sapphire Maple of Petalburg City? Daughter to Norman and Caroline Maple? Sister of Maxson Maple?"

"Wha?" May asked, very much disoriented. _How. . . how does this girl know my name? My whole name, too. That's pretty freaky. _Shrugging the thought away, she assumed this was because of her father's near-celebrity status and her own success in the Contests. "Er. . . yes. And you are?"

"Mimi. I'm a Pokemon Trainer," 'Mimi' replied so immediately May blinked twice before registering the Trainer's words. Brendan's ruby eyes seemed to flash with sudden recognition, but then the black-haired girl turned so abruptly to him that his gloved right hand actually found a Pokeball on his belt and tightened its grip on it before relaxing almost just as suddenly. "And would _you _be Brendan Ruby Birch of Littleroot, Hoenn? Son of the esteemed Professor Robert and Ruby Birch?"

"Uh. . . That would be me, yes." Brendan answered hesitatingly. The eyebrow that had previously disappeared into his hair came once again into view, and then shot up with unprecedented speed once more; and for some reason, Brendan touched the covered upper-left section of his forehead self-consciously.

"I thought so. But why are you traveling with Ms. Maple over here? Oh, wait, you two are childhood friends, how could I forget?" Mimi corrected herself, and then gave a mirthless sort of bark of laughter. May began feeling very suspicious; how did the girl know that Brendan and her were old friends? _What is Mimi, some sort of stalker? _Shuddering, May feebly lifted her Pokeball in her right hand and returned her Eevee, then protectively stuffed the DNA Pokemon's Pokeball into her dandelion fanny pack.

"Wait. . . How do you know?" Brendan asked suspiciously.

"I have. . . my sources," Mimi answered evasively, shrugging it off with a gloved maroon hand.

"Would you care to tell us exactly who or what these sources _are?_" Brendan pressed harshly. May didn't know whether to pat Brendan on the shoulder for being so brave or to flee for her life; Mimi's upper amaranth-red lip was curling into a vicious snarl, and her bare fingers spasmed dangerously towards the direction of her waist, where one traditionally kept their Pokeballs on a belt. But a whirl of a dark maroon coat later, the black-haired girl was gone, disappearing amidst the crowd that had formed in front of the Pokemart.

"Well, good riddance," May finally dared to mutter a solid minute after Mimi had left. She dared to unclench her fists and noticed that her nails, although gloved, had left eight deep scratches in her glove.

"Yeah." Brendan agreed, though sounding as if he were very far away. His angular face was pulled into a puzzled frown. "I just. . . her name sounded so familiar. And. . . I think I've seen her before, actually. Somewhere."

"You have?" May asked curiously.

"Yes. Hm. . . As for her name, I really forgot where I heard of it; maybe a magazine article somewhere or something like that. It's just that, I think I've seen her in Mossdeep City before. . . Or was it Ever Grande?"

"Mossdeep?" May queried, befuddled.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think it was Mossdeep. She was loitering around a cluster of houses, one of them, I think, was Steven Stone's very house." Brendan wondered aloud, pressing his thin lips into a line. "But let's stop dwelling on uncomfortable memories. We still have lots of catching up to do! I'm curious about this 'Harley' guy you were talking about earlier. Do you _really _think he was gay?"

Relieved that they were no longer discussing the mysterious black-haired Trainer, May directed her attention into answering his question, "Yes, yes, there's no mistakening it. . ."

**New Bark Town—12:03, September 3: Monday**

"Well! It's time for lunch!" Brendan Ruby Birch heard May exclaim from next to him. Startled out of his reverie of staring absent-mindedly at May's beautiful dark goldenrod locks, the black-haired Trainer nodded and they headed back towards the Pokemon Center after about a quarter of an hour of strolling around Town Square.

Soon after entering through the sliding door, Brendan strode over to the healing counter, where, thankfully, Nurse Joy had not yet left for her lunch break. The pink-haired lady nodded to acknowledge Brendan and May's arrival; without further ado, Brendan questioned her in what he hoped was a polite voice, "Could you please direct us to a nearby restaurant or grocery store?"

The pink-haired nurse paused for a few seconds to contemplate his question, before answering, "Well, yes. New Bark Town's Fresh Foods Grocery Store is actually quite well known around these parts. However, for lunch, I would suggest the Golden Ramen Shop. They're both on Main Street; there's no way you can't find them."

"Ah, thank you." Brendan replied courteously, tugging respectfully on an invisible hat, seeing as he did not wear his own when he came out with May. Then, turning towards the direction of the escalator, where the bow of May's red bandana was disappearing around a corner, Brendan sprinted up the moving staircase and barged through their room's door.

Max put down the breeding-related magazine he was reading to survey Brendan expectantly through his steel-rimmed glasses. May, who was just hanging her fanny pack on the bedpost, took it off again and tied her bag around her waist as Brendan stepped through the door. "Uh, Nurse Joy recommended a ramen shop on Main Street. So I guess we should be—"

Before the black-haired Trainer could even finish his sentence, May had put on a determined expression and had declared, "We're in!" and had dragged her brother out the door by the wrist. Sighing, Brendan could only smile at her enthusiasm for food—he found it rather cute—and follow after.

**New Bark Town—07:00, September 4: Tuesday**

Maybelline Sapphire Maple awoke to the sounds of cloth being folded. Groaning slightly, she forced herself to annoyingly crank open an eye, only to notice Brendan, clothed in his usual outfit, rapidly making his bed. Impressed with his speed, the brown-haired Coordinator reluctantly pulled herself out of bed to continue to watch Brendan. Lemon-colored sunlight was flooding through the window, white curtains of which had been drawn back.

The black-haired Trainer finished the task in under half a minute; without stopping, he proceeded to fold Max's bed, which was vacated. May could hear the sound of running water in the small bathroom jutting out of their room, and assumed that her brother was brushing his teeth or something like that.

Brendan acknowledged May's awakening with a cheeky grin. May returned the smile somewhat slowly, her ultramarine gaze fixed dreamily on the teenager, who continued to fold Max's sheets regardless of the fact that his childhood friend was staring at him for no reason. Deciding then that she might as well check the time, May looked towards the analog clock that hung on the wall opposite the window and noticed with a jolt in her stomach that it was a bare minute past seven a.m.

Grabbing her collared red blouse, long white layering shirt, and black shorts, May stretched luxuriously. She thought she saw Brendan looking at her, but when she rubbed all fatigue out of her eyes, the black-haired Trainer was walking out of the door, calling casually over his shoulder while slinging his emerald backpack over his back, "May, I'm going to the grocery store. I should be back in a bit, and then we can set off for Cherrygrove City."

Nodding, May waved in goodbye as the door swung shut. Feeling somewhat empty now that Brendan had left, the brown-haired Coordinator waited for her brother to finish. To pass the time, she folded her own bed, but the end result looked rather haphazard and May hoped that Nurse Joy would not mind.

After five minutes, the door to the bathroom opened, and Max stepped out, his Prussian blue hair still looking rather messy despite the fact that he had obviously attempted using water to try to smooth it down. In his small hands, Max still clutched a magazine entitled, 'NeoBattling'. Frowning at her brother's obsession with reading, May pushed passed the nine-year-old boy and stepped inside the bathroom.

At least Max hadn't made a huge mess in the sink. May locked the door shut behind herself and quickly swapped her nightgown for her usual day-wear, employing the 'fast-changing' method she had to learn on her journeys with Ash and Brock. Snatching up her toothbrush from the side of the porcelain white sink, May applied a pea-sized amount of 'Sharpedo'-brand toothpaste and began brushing her teeth.

Once she had finished, May hurriedly soaped her wet face and then splashed off all foam with the water. Gasping at the unexpected coldness of the water, May hurriedly found the gamboge-orange towel and began mopping her face with it until all moisture had been absorbed inside the towel.

Examining her appearance carefully in the mirror, May grabbed her cardinal-red comb which she had left on the sink the previous night and began combing her coffee-brown hair, wincing as she pulled it through a particularly nasty knot. Then, after deciding that her face was still looking a little, how to put it, unpolished, May dusted light carnation-pink powder onto her cheeks for a natural-looking blush, and then applied a little more; done with that, May spread a thin layer of cerise lipstick on her lips.

At last when she was finished, May looked at her reflection, satisfied, and snatched her hygienic items from the sink. Opening the door, May noticed to her surprise, Max and Brendan were standing outside, wearing impatient expressions; the former handed her a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich he had been holding in his left hand.

Gratefully, May devoured the food, and, looking at the clock to her left, noticed that it was seven fifty-five. Sheepishly, the brown-haired Coordinator realized that she had taken quite a bit to finish applying her makeup, and, hoping desperately that her brother and Brendan would not notice, began sliding towards her bed (which she noticed that Brendan had remade, most likely because he was unable to stand the sight of anything out-of-order).

However, her brother ostensibly could not sympathize with May's feminine needs, and he ground out, "May, you were in there for _forty-seven minutes._"

"Was I?" May asked innocently.

"Yes, you were," Brendan confirmed, wearing a startled expression on his face. "How come it takes you so long to apply make-up?"

"What?" May asked, flabbergasted. "You can tell I'm wearing makeup?"

Snorting, Brendan said, "Of course."

"But. . . I wore makeup all the time when I was around Ash, Brock, Max, Drew,"—for some reason, Brendan cringed when May said the green-haired Coordinator's name—"Harley, or Soledad," May protested, frowning. "And none of them ever said I wore makeup. . ."

"True, I never did notice," Max admitted lamely.

It was now Brendan's time to frown. "They couldn't tell? I thought it was kind of obvious."

Put-off a little by Brendan's comment, May retaliated, utterly deadpan, "Well, why don't _you _help me put on makeup?" She had initially intended the statement as a joke. Brendan, for some reason, touched the right part of his headbanded forehead, wearing a clouded look, before his expression cleared and his face revealed complete seriousness.

"So be it." The black-haired Trainer declared formally, motioning with his right hand for May's make-up bag. May, not knowing if Brendan was kidding or not, uneasily handed it over, ignoring her brother's horrified look.

It turned out that Brendan _was _being completely serious. Half an hour later, May was sitting in the single wooden chair in the room, feeling rather dazzled and staring wonderingly at her expression in the burgundy hand-held mirror Brendan was proudly holding up. She didn't look bad at all—on the contrary, she looked absolutely. . . and there was only one way to put it. . . magnificent. Max was speechless, while Brendan could only coo in an overly girlishly way, "Aww, May, you look so cute."

Blushing furiously at Brendan's compliment (albeit sort of wrong), May straightened up and turned towards the door, fully intending to display her makeup-ed beauty to the world, but the black-haired Trainer's gloved hand found her forearm and prevented her from exiting the room.

Flinching with. . ._ pleasure?_ at the contact, May turned to face Brendan, confused. For some reason, she felt oddly disappointed when he released his grip. "Oh, you probably don't want to go out right now. . . your red nail polish is still drying." Brendan explained, indicating the still glazed-looking alizarin-red paint on May's fingers.

"Okay." May agreed, though impatience made her blurt out five seconds later, "Um, but I thought we were going? I mean, you guys could help me open the door and stuff. . ."

"Yes, yes," Brendan answered so immediately that it startled May. Then, with incredible quickness, the black-haired Trainer darted into the bathroom, procuring all of his and Max's bathroom-related things and stuffed them into two plastic bags he seemed to magically conjure out of his backpack. Handing over Max's transparent to his sister, who, stuttering a little, stowed it in her own bag.

Without further ado, Brendan lunged forwards and pushed open the door for May. Feeling important, May beamed at Brendan, who, to her surprise, blushed an unmanly shade of pink, and then stepped through the door, heading for the escalator. She heard Max and Brendan follow after, and, an inexplicable warm feeling bubbling pleasantly in the pit of her stomach.

**Route 29—08:13, September 4: Tuesday**

Brendan Ruby Birch let out an exasperated sigh as May collapsed onto the ground for the fourth time that they had set out just fifteen minutes ago from New Bark Town.

As of now, the brown-haired Coordinator was throwing her hands into the air, wailing in a desperate sort of way, "I've failed! I can't go any further!"

"Come on, now, May," Brendan chided, reluctantly helping her to her feet. He had a feeling that she was partially doing this to get his attention, though _why_, he could not fathom. May had expressed nothing but pure bliss when she was talking about Contests, and here they were, heading to the first Contest Hall-holding City, and she was insisting upon stopping every three or four minutes. But, like she did the last three times when Brendan helped her to her feet again, May bounced up happily and began walking forwards with brimming vigor.

Scratching his white-cloth hat in bemusement, Brendan beckoned Max to follow, who was finishing up his magazine and twisted his thin mouth into a grimace as he reluctantly strode forwards, spectacled eyes still fixed on some article or whatnot about double battle strategies. The black-haired Trainer thought that Max could probably just as him or May for tips, but he decided not to intrude upon the younger boy's recreation and instead just nudged him forwards. The blue-haired boy quickened his pace a little in return.

May skipped ahead, humming a merry tune. It sounded eerily familiar to Brendan—the song mirrored the gentle flow of the waves, loud at first and then poetically melting into soft. Something in Brendan's mind clicked, and Brendan realized that it was a tune his mother had taught him when he was small, and Brendan had taught to May and Wally on one of their 'expeditions' to the wilderness between Petalburg and Littleroot (much to May's disapproval, though.)

Without really thinking, Brendan began humming the deeper version of the song, and for some reason, Max joined in. Now, Brendan had absolutely no idea how Max came to learn the song, but he did. Then again, the black-haired Trainer supposed the tune was rather catchy.

They followed this pattern for perhaps another half hour. Brendan quietly observed the scenery in the meantime—grass grew untamed on the dry, dirt path, and a forest, perhaps half a mile or so on either side of the group, spanned the wild backdrop of the route. It was rather amazing that they hadn't come across a Wild Pokemon yet.

As if their luck had suddenly ran out, a nearby patch of grass rustled. Tensing, Brendan immediately drew back his right leg to face the possible threat and his right hand immediately found his Swampert's Pokeball on his green belt. May stopped bouncing to eyeball the rustling grass and Max lowered his magazine with interest.

A copper-colored bird hopped out of the patch of grass, chirping and looking at Brendan with widened eyes. Surely the adorable Pokemon couldn't inflict much harm? The black-haired Trainer's heart melted at the Pidgey's large amber eyes, but he steeled it as the bird-like Pokemon rudely flapped its wings, causing a gust of dust to swirl around Brendan, obscuring his vision.

Feeling stupid for not sending out his Swampert when he should have, Brendan could only wave his mostly-bare arms around in an attempt to get rid of all the soil flying about in the air. Coughing pitifully, Brendan dared open one dark carmine eye to survey the scene. To his surprise, May had sent out her Blaziken, being remarkably quick on the uptake.

The Blaze Pokemon, upon finding the 'threat' huddled in a small feathery ball on the ground, merely chirruped in distaste and, without even waiting for an order from his Trainer, began slashing violently at the Pidgey with a 'Blaze Kick' technique.

However, the bird-like Pokemon avoided the fire attack easily by employing a well-timed 'Quick Attack'. The Blaziken ended up burning a foot-sized patch of grass. May looked both annoyed that her Pokemon had not done what she had said and both impressed by the Pidgey's quickness, but Latios knew that Brendan had seen faster.

Though his hand tightened instinctively around his Swampert's Pokeball, Brendan still did not send out the Mud Fish Pokemon, as he was busy observing May and her Blaziken's battle techniques. "Blaziken, try to hit it with another 'Blaze Kick'!" May interjected rather unnecessarily, seeing as the Blaze Pokemon had already fired up his right leg and was speeding furiously towards the Pidgey.

But, mirroring last time, the Pidgey dodged with another 'Quick Attack'. Blaziken clucked his rust-colored beak together in frustration, and without even waiting for an order from May, charged towards the Pidgey again with a blazing leg, and managed to catch the tail feathers of the bird-like Pokemon before it once again darted away.

_So that's how it is, eh? _Brendan thought to himself, very much unimpressed by May's battling skills. She lacked even the ability to control her Pokemon; Brendan had thought that, at least basing his inferences on her Eevee's 'Shadow Ball' appeal combinations, she was a relatively competent Coordinator, though evidently he was wrong. However, the black-haired Trainer did not relish the idea of May still being absolutely clueless about Pokemon like she had been four years ago, so he did not conclude anything about her skills on the small skirmish with the Pidgey.

May's Blaziken, meanwhile, was still stubbornly 'Blaze Kicking' the Pidgey, despite his Coordinator shouting, "No, Blaziken! Use 'Flamethrower', use 'Flamethrower!" in a most shrill and feminine voice. Brendan noted that the Blaziken, despite being exceedingly disobedient and strong-willed (_which is supposed to be a good trait most of the time, _Brendan thought to himself dryly), had relatively good control over his fire. Too bad he was going for power rather than accuracy—Brendan knew that it was the reverse that was required when dealing with opponents many times smaller than oneself. The black-haired Trainer felt his eyebrows twitch repeatedly.

Unable to stand the pathetic sight of May's Blaziken chirping angrily after the highly evasive Pidgey, who returned Blaziken's apparent 'swearing' with a few jovial trills of song of its own, Brendan whipped out his Swampert, who appeared in a flash of red light. May, who had fallen to her knees and looked as if she were going to erupt in tears, suddenly brightened at the appearance of the Mud Fish Pokemon, though looked considerably disheartened when the Swampert promptly shot a white-taupe stream of ice-cold water at her face.

"Not the time, Zuzu," Brendan admonished, addressing his Swampert via nickname with a small grin at May's wet, face, browned by unfailing 'Muddy Water' attack. Zuzu grumbled cordially in answer, and turned towards the direction Brendan was indicating feverishly with a pointed finger. "Hurry! 'Ice Beam' on that Pidgey!"

"Swamm," The Swampert replied obediently, unhinging his wide jaws and allowing a small, translucent azure sphere to materialize rapidly in front of his parted mouth. Blaziken, who was in the act of bringing another 'Blaze Kick' down on the Pidgey, stopped and turned questioningly towards Zuzu, who had allowed three separate streaks of blinding icy-blue light to careen towards the Pidgey.

The small bird Pokemon did not stand a chance against the well-aimed 'Ice Beam'—within half a second, the Pidgey had been frozen solid. Brendan returned his Swampert with a "Good job, Zuzu," and could not help but allow a smug smile to flit his face.

May picked up the frozen statue of the Pidgey and ran a hand up and down the Pidgey's right wing, breathless as she marveled it. Blaziken walked over haughtily, clucking his beak in heavy disapproval and tossing his light-cream feathery mane showily; Brendan could tell quite clearly that the Blaze Pokemon was putting on an act of bravado for May, but the brown-haired Coordinator, being the dense albeit very cute girl that she was, had neglected to notice, which only seemed to fuel Blaziken's bravado.

Brendan reflectively tilted his head to the side, thoughtfully considering why Blaziken had acted so. . . of his own accord. After pondering the question for a bit and meticulously observing Blaziken's façade of huffing around looking important, the black-haired Trainer came to the conclusion that the Blaze Pokemon was, perhaps, a little ignored in the light of May's other, smaller, and arguably 'cuter' Pokemon, or perhaps he was simply uncomfortable in his newly-evolved form. The Blaziken didn't move very smoothly, in any case, and often gave the appearance of having enlarged very quickly in a short period of time, which was typical of freshly-evolved Pokemon.

"Woah. . . You froze it," May finally said, lifting the still-frozen Pidgey to the light. Sniggering at May's delayed reaction, Brendan could only shake his head. Out of the corners of his eyes, the black-haired Trainer noticed Max bury his nose in a different magazine.

"Yes, normally that is what 'Ice Beam' does when it hits a Pokemon," Brendan remarked sarcastically, unable to stop the dry comment from rolling off the tip of his tongue. May laid the Pidgey back on the ground to let it thaw, evidently not wanting to capture it; then, she straightened up and faced Brendan, playfully curling her upper lip into a small grin. Brendan thought his heart skipped a beat—it had not been so long ago when he had thought he would never see her radiant smile again.

"Anyway, Brendan, I guess we should get moving, huh?" May asked, nudging the black-haired Trainer playfully in the side. Brendan could not stifle the abnormally high chuckle that escaped his throat, and, embarrassed of his display of feminism, he straightened his black-and-orange vest importantly. The brown-haired Coordinator giggled quietly at his actions, and for some reason Brendan began feeling very important.

"Oh, yes," He replied, suavely rearranging the Pokeballs on his belt so that his Milotic was at the front of his team lineup, for no apparent reason. Glancing for a brief moment (out of habit, really) over May's shoulders, Brendan noticed that May's Blaziken was, well, sulking among the grasses; a small purple Pokemon which Brendan decided was a Rattata was squirming underneath the Blaze Pokemon's sharp claws. _Woah. That Blaziken sure caught that Rattata fast. And there I was, thinking that May had no battling skills. . ._

Without saying anything more, May began bouncing ahead, clearly forgetting to return her Blaziken, who seemed highly offended by his Coordinator's lack of care. Brendan, too, began walking, but he coughed significantly and signaled the Blaziken, who clucked his beak at being pointed at. The brown-haired Coordinator noticed, however, which was why Brendan had coughed and pointed in the first place, though she interpreted it differently.

"Why, Brendan! That's a wonderful idea! We really _should _send our Pokemon out, I mean, it'll be their first glimpse of Johto!" May beamed, looking at Brendan as if he were a genius. The black-haired Trainer raised an eyebrow as the girl sent out three other Pokemon from her fanny pack.

A tottering Munchlax was what solidified first, most likely owing to his density. His eyes, small and beady, searched the area for food—finding none, he began sleeping on the spot, drooping his pointed head onto his narrow shoulders.

May's Eevee sprang out from her Pokeball with much energy, and proceeded to dig several three-foot diameter holes in the ground, much to May's dismay. Brendan chuckled at the DNA Pokemon's antics, however; it was good to see that his friend's Pokemon were not deprived of personality.

Squirtle was the last to exit his Pokeball; why was not apparent at first, but it soon became clear as the Small Turtle Pokemon, at the sight of Brendan looking inquisitively at his dappled dark-beige shell, he squealed and promptly ran to hide, quivering, behind May's socked legs.

"He's a shy one, ain't he?" Brendan asked, gesturing towards Squirtle, who squealed again and sucked himself into his shell.

"Yeah, yeah, he is," May said, bending down to nudge the Pokemon out of his shell. "He's only a little Squirtle."

"He looks on the verge of evolution, though," Brendan mused, tilting his head to the right. "Looks to be of power level twenty. Strange. The average for Squirtle evolution is at level sixteen or so. Perhaps your Squirtle is a slow evolver."

More out of interest than anything else, Brendan dropped to his knees to closer examine the Squirtle, who, very shakily, allowed Brendan to come closer. "Hm. Your Squirtle looks relatively strong, though his strength is in his defenses and endurance."

"Wow, really?" May asked admiringly, also dropping to her knees to mimic Brendan. "I can't tell. How do you—?"

"Lots of practice." Brendan replied before May finished her sentence. _It also helps if you have a very demanding Professor-father breathing down your neck. _Pulling himself up to better inspect May's other Pokemon, he noticed that May's Eevee was vigorously shoving 'Shadow Balls' into the holes she had dug in the ground. Amused, Brendan watched as a huge, black-and-yellow explosion came out of the ground, not enlarging any of the said holes but creating a dazzling effect nonetheless. The combination was perfect for any Contest that did not care too much for its Hall's floor's condition.

There wasn't much to say about May's Munchlax. He was still sleeping, standing upright. _It also looks like it's close to evolution. Pity I forgot how Munchlax evolves. _Brendan thought to himself. _Also looks like it's competent in endurance and attack as well as defenses, though lacking in speed._

May's Blaziken was chasing after yet another Rattata, and managed to catch the rat-like Pokemon underneath his talons a few seconds later. Brendan revered the Blaze Pokemon's speed and attack power, though he seemed to be lacking in defenses and hovering about average at endurance—already, the Blaziken was looking tired, not to mention very much harassed for some reason. Perhaps that was because Eevee was digging holes in a circle around him.

"We should really get going," Brendan remarked, wondering if he should send out his Pokemon. _No, not yet. Not yet._

"Yup!" May agreed, whacking her brother on the forearm lightly to get him moving. Max began trudging forwards at Slugma pace, but hurried up when she whacked him again; the brown-haired Coordinator began bouncing forwards, and Brendan unconfidently beckoned May's Pokemon to follow. To his surprise, they did, though Blaziken only did so when it became apparent that they were, indeed, continuing their journey.

Brendan took it to admiring his scenery, and occasionally gesturing at the surrounding landscape with his hands for the benefit of his Pokemon, who were all in their respective Pokeballs, clipped on his jade belt. May slowed down her hop after a while, and resumed a normal walk; Brendan was simply glad that she didn't stop in said melodramatic manner.

An hour later, Brendan began wondering if they were actually going in the right direction—by his reckon, they had traveled four or five miles already, though admittedly, they had been sidetracked by minor battles with various Pidgey and Rattata. Surely there would be a signpost or something to show them that they were going the right way? He cursed himself silently for forgetting to purchase a Town Map at New Bark Town's Pokemart.

Another hour passed. May and Max's paces had both deteriorated to that of two Slowpoke's, and Brendan felt his own speed begin to fall. His legs ached horribly, and he stopped in mid-stride to pull out his bottle of sunblock lotion from his bag and smother it on his slightly pink-looking exposed arms and face. It didn't help instantly, so Brendan applied another layer. He began feeling somewhat like he was wearing a thick mask.

The black-haired Trainer offered the sunblock to May and Max, who were both looking red-faced. May accepted it gratefully and began squirting generous amounts of tangerine yellow cream onto her hands (after removing her gloves) and then began smothering it all over herself. Max waited impatiently for his turn. When May and Max were both finished, Max tossed Brendan his lotion back, and he noticed that the weight of the bottle had been reduced significantly.

He opened his mouth to suggest that they should stop and take a rest—even May's Munchlax was showing signs of tiring, and from experience Brendan knew that Munchlax were very durable Pokemon; then again, the Big Eater Pokemon could simply be hungry, which was a plausible explanation. However, Brendan could not blatantly ignore the fact that May's Squirtle was looking dehydrated—and since Squirtle was a Water-typed Pokemon, perhaps the temperature was higher than Brendan had calculated—but before he could voice any of his observations, May's sapphire eyes had suddenly glazed over with glee. And then, without a premonition of any sort, the brown-haired Coordinator pointed excitably to the line on the horizon.

Brendan squinted his eyes towards the direction she was pointing at—he had bad eyesight, and it was only out of vanity that he didn't wear his glasses all the time—and could barely make out a blurred figure. However, despite Brendan's misgivings and his perpetually horrible vision, the black-haired Trainer was convinced that the person on the horizon had green hair.

**A/N:**

**Well! I hope that read wasn't too long. I also hoped that you liked it.**

**I know this chapter was kind of long and drawn out, but I had to introduce Mimi somehow as well as further define Brendan's personality; I'm rather slow at it, however. . .**

**Anyway, I realize that this chapter was mainly Hoennshipping. –glances around nervously– What? I haven't been ambushed by dedicated Contestshippers yet? A marvel. In any case, from the next chapter on, there will be more of Contestshipping and the Hoennshipping versus Contestshipping love triangle. Oh, you can trust me.**

**I also want some advice: Should Drew travel with Brendan, May, and Max? Yes? No? I kind of want to put him in, but the thing is, traveling with BMM is kind of against Drew's nature. So, I really want your advice.**

**And now for the OCs. Yes. Mimi is probably the only OC who will show up once in a while (but definitely will show up) in the story. However, I do need some OCs to occupy the positions of average-leveled Trainers/Coordinators to experienced Trainers/Coordinators (and **_**possibly **_**travel companions); therefore, if you have an OC that you think will somehow fit into the story, I won't mind if you leave a little description of him/her in your review.**

**Please, though, fill out the following form for OC submission. You can twist it around a little, but I would like you to have the below content.**

**Name (please provide at least a first name or a nickname):  
Age:  
Gender:  
Occupation (Trainer/Coordinator/etc.):  
Skill Level (beginning-experienced):  
Height:  
Eye Color:  
Hair Color:  
General Appearance (clothes/physique/jewelry/etc.):  
Pokemon Team (maximum six, no legends, include move sets and nicknames if applicable):  
Personality:  
Desired First Appearance (e.g. Random battle/Contest/Pokemon Center. . .):**

**Desired Appearance Number (one chapterone appearance) (no more than five, please):**

**Other (Optional):  
Love Interest (canon character) (Optional):**

**Please submit no more than five OCs per reviewer. **

**Well, that's all I got to say for the end-notes. Oh, and please review! (:**


	4. Cherrygrove City and Some New Rules

**Hello, hi! –waves– Welcome to Chapter Four of Johto Adventures! Thanks for the reviews! (:**

**There's quite a bit of Contestshipping as well as Hoennshipping in this chapter. Hope you liked it! I also tried to shift the attention from Romance to Adventure, but the shippers in me are putting up quite a resistance. Efufu. (And I call myself a **_**Pokemon**_** enthusiast.)**

**Anyway, as an attempt to compensate for this, I'm going to write some **_**Pokemon**_** romance. As in, Pokemon x Pokemon. –slygrin– But the main romantic focus will definitely be on the lovely Drew, May, and Brendan. Oh, and Marina, Jimmy, and Silver. . . (:**

**Well, on with the story! Again, I am still accepting OCs! –pokes–**

**Chapter Four: Cherrygrove City and Some New Rules**

**Route 29—10:14, September 4: Tuesday**

"Holy Miltank!" Maybelline Sapphire Maple exclaimed, jumping up and down while still pointing at the figure on the horizon, which seemed to be minimizing as it drew away. "It's DREW!"

And then, without further ado, the brown-haired began sprinting towards the direction of the horizon. She thought she could feel Brendan and Max's gazes on her back, but she didn't really care—it was DREW, after all! Even though they had just seen each other a few days ago, May felt like it had been a lifetime. For some reason, May always felt oddly lonely when Drew was not around, though for some even odder reason Brendan compensated quite a bit for this.

The green-haired Coordinator, who previously had his back turned to May, pivoted on the spot just as May hurled herself at him. He stumbled, and May buried him in a huge hug. May heard the varied clatter of her Pokemon's feet on the dust road as they neared Drew and her, but couldn't really care.

"Why, hello, May," Drew said in his low, silky voice—May could have sworn it dropped by half an octave—as soon as May had relinquished her iron-grip on his waist. He was still garbed in his usual outfit of black turtle-neck sweater, collared lavender vest, and turquoise pants. She noticed Drew's Roselia staring up at her, wearing her usual serene expression.

"Hi!" May exclaimed breathlessly, beaming happily at her green-haired rival.

Drew cocked his head to one side, sweeping his jade gaze over May's outfit. She immediately began feeling self-conscious, but she didn't say anything about it.

"I see your horrible fashion taste hasn't changed much over the course of four days."

"I see your large ego hasn't deflated. And besides, _I_ didn't design my absolutely dazzling outfit."

"Really? I had thought that only you would be able to concoct a set of clothes so hideous. Evidently I was wrong." Drew replied smugly, flipping his hair. May's left eye twitched—though the green-haired Coordinator did not know it, he was implying that Brendan did not have a sense of fashion. The brown-haired Coordinator was able to sustain insults thrown at her quite well—partly because no conversation with Drew could be complete without an attack on her in some form—but at her friends? May could not stand that.

"Excuse me!" She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and jutting her chin into the air. Her somewhat poofy brown side-bangs lifted and fell with the gust of small wind.

Fortunately, before Drew could reply, Brendan had appeared by May's side. She stole a sidelong glance at Brendan, and noticed that he was wearing an exceedingly stern frown on his angular face. Moreover, his white-cloth hat was slightly crooked, which was most uncharacteristic of May's constitutional and ridiculously neat friend, revealing a portion of his dark hair.

"This is. . .?" Drew asked, his green gaze flitting from May's face to Brendan's. In response, the black-haired Trainer tensed his muscles, reminding May instantly of a predatory Pokemon about to leap on another predatory Pokemon that had invaded his space. Feeling that Brendan looked as if he didn't really want to answer Drew's question, May completed that task for him. The brown-haired girl noticed suddenly that Brendan was of identical height with Drew—and that both boys were ridiculously tall.

"Brendan Birch. He's my old childhood friend, from Littleroot Town." May answered.

There was a silence of five seconds, before Brendan, very jerkily and reluctantly, offered his hand to Drew. The green-haired Coordinator stared at Brendan's semi-gloved hand for another five seconds before, with jerkiness and reluctance rival to the black-haired Trainer's, grabbing it. The handshake lasted half a second.

"I am Drew Rosalind of La Rousse." Drew finally said. Brendan grunted suspiciously in return, though his ruby eyes glazed in recognition. "I'm a top Coordinator." He added, as if unable to restrain himself.

"Really." Brendan ground out, voice dripping with skepticism. May wondered why Brendan was doubting Drew's ability—though she hated to admit it, he was an awesome Coordinator, although at times he _did _mistreat his Pokemon. . . that one incident with his Absol was enough to scar May for a lifetime.

"Yes." Drew replied suavely, reverting his gaze back to May, as if Brendan were of little to no importance. Then, addressing May, he asked, "Why's this guy following you around?" Rather rudely, he thrust a thumb in Brendan's direction; the said Trainer looked highly offended.

"He's not following me around! He's traveling with me!" May retorted indignantly. As if on cue, her Eevee jumped on her shoulder—May staggered at the DNA Pokemon's weight—and her Squirtle came hurling into her right ankle, sobbing for some reason or another. She bent down to calm him, and when she looked up, May thought she caught a glimmer of resentment in Drew's alluring emerald eyes.

"Yeah! So what cha gonna do about it, huh? Huh?" Brendan asked in an annoying voice very much unlike his usual studious self, sticking his face in Drew's. The green-haired Coordinator took an uncertain step backwards, glancing at his Roselia as if for guidance. The Rose Pokemon simply shrugged. May was rather taken aback, though she didn't express this beyond the raising of her two eyebrows.

"I suppose I won't do anything; losers, like you two, attract." Drew replied in a calm but nasty voice, narrowing his eyes and sniggering slightly. May's face pinked; Brendan's turned a more splendid shade of crimson reminiscent of his own eye color. Shifting his weight onto his left leg, Drew placed his right hand behind his back; a moment later, he had procured an amaranth-red rose, dew dripping from its fine petals, and had tossed it casually to May.

May caught it easily, not fearing any thorns, for Drew always plucked them out for her, though why, she was not entirely sure of yet. She glanced at Brendan, worried what he might seen for the whole rose-tossing thing may appear a little suspicious to anyone unfamiliar with it, and felt trepidation froth in her stomach when she saw the horror and flabbergastion etched in every line of Brendan's now pallid-looking face.

In an attempt to assure Brendan that the roses were of completely. . . er . . . normal origin, May asked Drew before he could leave, "What's the rose for this time?"

Drew, in the process of turning his back on her, turned his head one last time to face before replying, "For getting to Johto alive." Finishing that, he flicked his hair and began walking away, his Roselia striding obediently behind him.

Part of May wanted to chase Drew and yank his hair out for insulting her like that; the other part simply wanted to savor the flowery scent of Drew's rose. She contented herself with taking one whiff of the rose's smell and then stuffed it into her bag; then, turning towards Brendan, she was somewhat surprised to see him wear a practically murderous expression; his red gaze staring fixedly at Drew's figure until it disappeared over the horizon line.

The black-haired Trainer shook his head as if trying to rid himself of a particularly insidious thought; May had never before seen him quite like that, excluding the time she gave Wally a kiss of gratitude on the cheek after he helped her locate her father's gym badges after Max had, in one of his frequent bad moods, had scattered them all around Petalburg Forest.

Brendan, as if noticing that May was looking intently at him, plastered on a cheerful smile and suggested, "Well, I guess I'll send out my Pokemon, too, huh? Johto's quite different from Hoenn, Kanto, or Sinnoh." It was almost impossible to discern from his current expression the hatred he had revealed before. Then, without waiting for a reply, he unclipped his Pokeballs from his green belt and flung them all into the air.

May tore her eyes off of Brendan to watch with childlike awe as six different-sized figures burst out from the opening red hoods of Brendan's Pokeballs. One beam of red light shot skywards, forming a huge, bulky but rounded figure that solidified into a large tangerine-orange Dragon; the Dragon Pokemon continuously beat her relatively small, leathery myrtle wings to keep airborne. A Venetian red scarf was tied around the Dragonite's left arm, an accessory of some sort.

Brendan's Swampert came out next, gurgling water in his throat in a benevolent sort of way, but May edged away anyway—she didn't want to be hit by another 'Muddy Water' attack after all; for some reason, all Mudkip and their evolutions strongly disliked her, or simply enjoyed splashing her with their water attacks. May's Squirtle eyed the larger water-typed Pokemon with apprehension—May half-expected him to come running into her ankles again, but thankfully he did not.

At the exact same time, Brendan's Aggron and Shiftry shimmered into being next to Zuzu, his Swampert. The Iron Armor Pokemon gave a ferocious roar for no apparent reason, lashing her heavy slate gray tail violently, as if seeking a battle. The two ivory bands of what appeared to be bone glistened in the noon sun; upon further examination, May noticed that the Aggron's gray plated-body was scratched, most likely relics of previous battles.

The Shiftry's snowy-white mane rippled with the slightest gust of wind; he hopped away on his two stilt-like brown legs. The Wicked Pokemon's skin appeared wood-like—when May worked up the courage to brush her bare elbow against it, she pulled away at the unexpected rough texture. The grass-and-dark typed Pokemon turned to survey her, his long, branch-like nose almost poking into her forehead; instinctively, she retreated. However, May's Munchlax seemed to be not intimidated by the Shiftry's frightening appearance and walked straight into the Wicked Pokemon's mane. Bemused, the Shiftry flapped his green, leaf-like hands.

The next thing that caught May's attention was Brendan's Milotic. The Tender Pokemon appeared in a coiled position, humbling her own serpentine beauty. Her cyan-scaled tail glimmered in the sunlight, creating a subtly dazzling effect; May could not help but admiringly watch the Milotic, who was looking around at May's Pokemon, evidently unimpressed. May's Blaziken, however, approached the Tender Pokemon (May didn't know why); the Milotic didn't seem quite taken to him, however, and merely stiffened as the Blaze Pokemon drew closer.

Brendan's last Pokemon took a very humanoid form, though it was taller than May by a good foot. As soon as it solidified, May noticed that it was a Gallade; the Pokemon flexed his bladed celadon arms and looked around, similar to Brendan's Aggron in the action of seeking a battle, though judging by the Blade Pokemon's dignified appearance, May thought he was probably seeking a more dignified battle. But, as if contradicting the Gallade's courteous countenance, the Pokemon narrowed his dark red eyes when he saw Blaziken approaching Milotic.

May, still busy ogling Brendan's Pokemon, managed to choke out a respectful, "Latios, your Pokemon look strong!" in her black-haired friend's direction.

"Thanks," Brendan said in reply, walking over to his Aggron and laying his right hand on her head, as if attempting to calm the battle-hungry Pokemon down. He partially succeeded—Aggron continued to lash her tail, but she stopped roaring. "All right, everyone! Let's get moving to Cherrygrove; at this pace, we're never going to get there!" Brendan shouted, addressing all of his and May's Pokemon, as well as a still-reading Max.

**Route 29—07:00, September 5: Wednesday**

Brendan Ruby Birch awoke with a jolt. His eyelids fluttered open, and his red eyes darted around wildly. It took him approximately half a second to realize that he was merely waking up according to his normal schedule.

There was a nasty ache in his right shoulder; pushing himself reluctantly to his feet, Brendan eyed the gamboge-vermillion rising sun and rubbed his sore, stifling a yawn. He turned lazily to his left to survey the curled-up sleeping figure of May, several feet away from his own make-shift sleeping bag which was composed of leaves cleaned by May's Squirtle and his Milotic's 'Water Guns/Pulses' and squashed accordingly by a most eager Aggron, then cut up and positioned by his Gallade and May's Blaziken, who both worked unnaturally quickly, as if engaged in some sort of competition.

_She looks like an angel when she's asleep, _Brendan noted dreamily as May turned over in her sleep. Her coffee-brown hair was sprawled messily over her face, and her usually bouncy side-bangs had been subdued into a limp; the girl's bandana and red blouse were lying in a neat pile by the side of her pillow-less head. _Strike that. She looks like an angel all the time._

Brendan wondered if she was cold in her simple attire of long white T-shirt and shorts; after a few moments of pondering, he shed his own vest—he, too, was wearing a white T-shirt underneath—and placed it on top of May (they didn't make a leaf-blanket, because Brendan could not stand the unhygienic of it all and Max said the leaves were itchy.) Out of care, he then turned to make sure that Max was still asleep on the right of Brendan's leaf-bed; the blue-haired boy was indeed still in dream-land.

Stretching, the black-haired Trainer clamped his ungloved hands over his mouth to stop another yawn from exiting his mouth. He shrugged fatigue away from his body and, with new energy, plucked his fingerless yellow gloves from atop his green backpack and vociferously shoved them onto his hands, flexing them after he had finished. Afterwards, Brendan seized his green Pokeball belt and clipped it neatly around his waist.

Finding his black-red sneakers by the foot of his makeshift bed, Brendan stuffed his feet into them and made his way to the dirt-road. He gazed east, and saw the trail of sundry footprints May, Max, him, and all of their Pokemon had made. Then, gazing west at the gradually slanting-down slope, he thought he saw a sliver of a rooftop and quickly calculated the distance it would take to get there, deciding at last that they still had a few hours' of traveling to do.

Johto was the most modernized region of all—though Brendan had only been here for a couple of days, he could already tell. Judging purely on sanitation of the Pokemon Center, Brendan could tell that the Johtoans were clearly people of etiquette. It made a startling contrast to Hoenn, the least modernized region, and its comparably ramshackle building. Brendan smiled, for it meant that there was considerably less walking distance from town to town, though he wouldn't rely solely upon that observation to dictate his group's traveling route.

Of course, Brendan could always hop onto his Mach Bike and zip from town to town in less than several hours. However, upon learning that May's Acro Bike had been obliterated by Ash's Pikachu's 'Thunderbolt' attack, Brendan decided that he wouldn't use his own bike that much in their travels, unless they managed to acquire one in a city somewhere. But from what he had deduced from the conversations he and May shared, Max probably didn't know how to ride a bike, which could prove to be an obstacle later on.

Brendan unclipped a Pokeball from his belt and flung it into the air, watching as the snake-like figure of his Milotic shimmered into being. She was in a coiled-up position, and her horned head was lying on her tail—obviously, the Tender Pokemon had been asleep. The Milotic woke up surprisingly quickly; Brendan guessed this was because of the stark temperature difference between the cozy interior of a Pokeball and the chilly autumn air of Johto.

The Milotic watched Brendan with some contempt; the black-haired Trainer knew as well as anybody how she did not like to be disturbed while sleeping. Brendan, however, didn't feel enough sympathy for the Pokemon to apologize—despite the Water-typed Pokemon's reptilian appearance, she was really warm-blooded, and thus able to maintain her own body temperature. Besides, Brendan's hygienic phobia was practically screaming to be taken care of.

"A light 'Water Pulse', please, Mimi," Brendan ordered with all the politeness he could muster, drawing an invisible arc through the air where he wanted the water-typed attack to follow. He suddenly realized with a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach that what he had nicknamed his Milotic was the name of that weird girl he and May had met in New Bark Town. Mimi, his Milotic, gave a small scowl but obeyed.

Immersing his face in the cold water, Brendan hurriedly washed his hands and face, cursing himself for forgetting to bring soap. His heart skipped a beat as the whimsical possibility (suggested no doubt by his Automysophobia) that he would die of not ridding himself of all dirt flitted across his mind, but he dismissed it, albeit not completely.

He gasped as he withdrew his face from the stream of water, which now ended as Mimi snapped her mouth shut. Coldness stung at his face, and he hurriedly mopped his face with a tissue.

"Miii," The Milotic grumbled irritably, swishing her fan-like tail back and forth.

"Oh, right, back in here you go," Brendan said, hurriedly wrenching open the Pokeball's cover and withdrawing his Pokemon in a beam of red light. He heard a content 'miii' from Mimi inside her Pokeball. He proceeded to unclip his Gallade's Pokeball from his belt, and flung that into the air, sending out the Blade Pokemon.

'Is there something required of me, master?' The psychic-typed Pokemon inquired politely, sending the question telepathically to Brendan, who was not the least bit startled. His Gallade had used this method of communication with him on many occasions, and more than once it cleared up hazy misunderstandings that occurred between Brendan and his Pokemon.

"Yes, Ruru," Brendan answered, addressing his Gallade by nickname. Ruru fidgeted slightly at the mention of his nickname; Brendan knew only too well that he didn't like it all that much, but the black-haired Trainer had always thought the nickname to be cute and decided that he would slap it onto the next Pokemon had met. (Which, unfortunately for Ruru, happened to be the Gallade, a Ralts, then.) "Our morning training session, or have you forgotten?"

'Ah, yes.' Ruru replied thoughtfully. Then, leisurely flexing his supple limbs, the Gallade leapt backwards, drawing a semi-circle on the dusty ground with his left foot, pulling himself into battle-stance. 'I will surely defeat you.'

Brendan raised an eyebrow at his Pokemon's sudden burst of confidence. Ruru had certainly not been so self-assured before. Perhaps his recent evolution had gotten to his head. _Well, at least it's better than fighting a Kirlia, _Brendan thought dryly to himself, hurrying backwards and stretching to warm up his athletic body. "Er. . . so, ready, Ruru?"

'Always,' The Gallade murmured in reply. 'The question is. . . are _you_?"

Without waiting for a reply, the Blade Pokemon lunged forwards and slashed at Brendan's midriff with a glowing-pink right blade. The Trainer, caught off-guard, was hit by the 'Psycho Cutter' attack in full force. Clutching his stomach, Brendan staggered backwards; though they had 'trained' together several times before when Ruru was a Gallade, the Pokemon's seemingly unlimited store of strength and energy still impressed the black-haired Trainer.

While Brendan was still recovering from the powerful first blow, Ruru leapt forwards again, slashing now at Brendan's back; however, despite his unprepared appearance, Brendan was actually waiting for his Gallade's first move, and dodged the attack by nimbly stepping to the right. All that Ruru's 'Psycho Cutter' hit was thin air.

Taking advantage of the Gallade's temporary disorientation, Brendan hurled forwards like a madman, knocking the humanoid Pokemon on his side. Not stopping, the Trainer fired a flurry of fast punches at Ruru's abdomen, careful to avoid hitting his fist on the red, knife-like protrusion from the center of the Gallade's chest.

Ruru's energy replenished unnaturally quickly. The Gallade easily shoved the light human off of himself, and, almost with invisible speed, darted forwards and laid a fine, freakishly sharp arm-blade to the nape of Brendan's neck. The black-haired shuddered at the cold touch of his Gallade, and lifted his gloved hands into the air to signal his defeat.

As the Gallade pulled back, Brendan's mind registered the small amount of seconds it took Ruru to overpower him. He supposed that the Gallade really had learned something worthwhile when he was a Kirlia. The Gallade in question was looking expectantly at Brendan, waiting for his Trainer to make a comment.

"You. . . you've really improved from when you were a Kirlia," Brendan finally remarked. Ruru's orange eyes glittered with satisfaction—praise from the studious Trainer was hard to receive (unless he was commenting on something's 'cuteness'.)

'Thank you, master,' Ruru said gratefully. Brendan raised the Gallade's Pokeball, preparing to open the hood and return his Pokemon, but the Gallade didn't seem to be finished. 'May I speak with you for a moment?'

"Uh, sure, go ahead, Ruru," Brendan said, wondering what it was that could possibly be on the Gallade's mind.

'I was just wondering. . . could you send us out of our Pokeballs more often? I would, ah, like to see more of Johto as well as socialize with this May-girl's Pokemon.' Ruru said carefully. Brendan waited, expecting more. Indeed, the Gallade continued, 'And perhaps challenge May's most honorable Blaziken to a dual.'

"A dual?" Brendan frowned, scratching the side of his chin. "That sounds a little too. . . er. . . serious. How about just a friendly battle?"

The Gallade pursed his thin mouth into a line. 'I suppose that would suffice.'

"Oh, and it would probably be best if you had your little 'dual' after May's first Contest. She seemed pretty hyped up about it all, and if you do happen to defeat her Blaziken, well, I really don't want anything to happen to shatter her self-confidence."

'I see you care a lot for May.' Ruru commented. Brendan redirected his gaze onto the Gallade—it had previously settled itself quite contentedly in the direction of May's sleeping body.

"How. . .? Did you read my mind again, Ruru? We agreed that it would do to respect others' privacy?" Brendan asked, unnerved. Then, before he could stop himself, he added with much relish, "Besides, I didn't make you evolve into a Gardevoir."

Ruru cocked his head to one side. Brendan wondered if the Gallade was pondering the option of whether or not to slice his head clean off; thankfully, though, Ruru did not choose to go in that direction. 'No. I could just tell from your expression and the way you narrated your speech.'

"Oh, um, okay then. . . Well, you deserve an extra hour of sleep in your Pokeball," Brendan said, wondering if he could ever win a 'spar' against his Gallade again and returning Ruru in a beam of red light.

Sighing quietly, he proceeded back to their small camp, intending to wake May up. Angels must rise to their duties, after all.

**Cherrygrove City—11:41, September 5: Wednesday**

Maybelline Sapphire Maple exclaimed in delight as they stepped through the iron-wrought gate, overridden with twining dark green ivy. She looked around herself, inhaling the sweet scent of cherries as it wafted over from the various cherry groves that surrounded the small city.

Fuchsia-painted rectangular sheets of wood made up most of the houses' roofs. The main components of each pink-roofed building were light-pink bricks. May wondered vaguely how the male inhabitants of Cherrygrove City took to the feminine colors of the city, and could only feel sympathy. She saw a Contest Hall erected in the distance.

To her right, Brendan was surveying the scene, while to her left, Max was scrutinizing the painted-white signpost. A few moments later, the blue-haired boy declared formally:

"Cherrygrove City, the city of cute, fragrant flowers."

The brown-haired Coordinator paused in her exclamations of delight to raise her thin eyebrows at the somewhat lame motto. Brendan, too, looked equally unimpressed. Max merely pushed his large glasses further up his nose bridge and began walking into the city without waiting for her sister or their traveling companion, or their Pokemon.

"Brendan? Do you think we should return our Pokemon now?" May asked as they made their way down the cobbled stone road; indeed, the group stuck out from the townspeople, and they certainly earned more than one strange sidelong glance from passerby. Brendan nodded and flipped his Pokeballs into the air in one fluid motion, returning his Pokemon smoothly.

Being a bit of a klutz, it took May some five minutes to return all of her Pokemon, even with the combined help of Brendan and Max. Her Eevee proved to be exceedingly troublesome, employing her 'Dig' attacks only too well on the paved streets of Cherrygrove City as she expertly dodged each beam of red light fired at her limber brown body.

When May finally managed to return all of her Pokemon and stuff them into her dandelion-colored fanny pack, Max shot her a nasty glare and continued walking through the growing crowd. May's stomach gave a grumble of hunger, and embarrassedly, she looked at Brendan, but he was too busy trying to fight his way through the crowd without looking too conspicuous—he was easily half a foot taller than those around himself. In fact, May felt somewhat dwarf-like in his presence.

Postponing the eventual and unavoidable demand for food, May jostled her own way through the crowd, following the back of Brendan's black vest, which, to her growing annoyance, blended in quite well with the crowds' varying shades of brown suits. She contented herself with following the black-haired Trainer's white-clothed hat, and prayed that they would find the Pokemon Center as soon as possible.

She stepped through the sliding door of the Pokemon Center, her prayers answered. Her ultramarine gaze swept over the inside of the building, and noted with grim satisfaction that, oddly enough, the healing center was mostly deserted. Perhaps the Trainers had all gone out to lunch?

Brendan was conversing with the pink-haired Nurse Joy, who, a few moments later, handed him a bronze key, which was instantly snatched out of his gloved left hand by an impatient Max. Said indigo-haired boy then immediately hightailed it up the escalator, clutching in one hand said key and the other his magazine. May noticed that he had evidently finished 'NeoBattling' and had swapped to another magazine.

The black-haired Trainer, after watching Max hurl himself upstairs, turned to May and beckoned for her to follow. Drifting after Brendan, May paused to examine her surroundings—the peachy walls were plastered in most places with posters of a mainly pink Contest Halls—and to wave cheerily at the pink-haired nurse, who waved back.

Following Brendan to their room (213, this time), May wrenched off her bag and slung it over the bed post, the minty scents of any regular Pokemon Center boarding room filling her nose and the soft carpeting silencing her footsteps. Her knees wobbled as her stomach gave an urgent sort of growl, and pathetically, she turned to her black-haired friend, who was removing his cloth-hat and placing it on the bed atop her own. Despite her near-starvation status, May still admiringly observed Brendan's raven hair and wondered how he styled it so that it looked so messily attractive.

It was then that May remembered the rose Drew had given her some hours ago. She withdrew the slightly crumpled flower from her fanny pack, marveled its stem's smooth texture and the softness of its vivid red petals, before plopping it daintily in a clear, water-filled container on the table. May thought she saw Brendan's eyes flash with distaste, but then it passed.

"You're hungry?" Brendan guessed as May collapsed onto the floor, clutching her stomach. She could only nod wearily. "I see. Well, Max, mark your page; we're going to eat lunch."

Max shot Brendan an irritable glance before tiredly closing his magazine. May, now filled with an inner energy, beamed, "Let's get going!" at Brendan and, grabbing her fanny pack once again, happily bounced out of the room, feeling her side-bangs flop up and down as she hopped down the escalator.

**Cherrygrove City—14:01, September 5: Wednesday**

Brendan Ruby Birch watched as May bubbly registered for the Contest. While she conversed with the blue-haired lady behind the (redundantly) pink counter, the black-haired Trainer took the time to examine the pitiful remains of his money after May had consumed a few dozen bowls of ramen at the ramen shop. He regretted ever offering to treat her to lunch, and resolved to learn from his (fatal?) mistake. _Oh, well. I'll just win several battles against other Trainers, and then my money pouch will be full again in no time._

"What? They added more sections to the Contest?" Brendan heard May ask the lady behind the counter in an incredulous voice. Interest piqued, the black-haired Trainer decided to eavesdrop on their conversation, and took the pretense of craning his neck to read over Max's shoulder, even though his horrible eyesight didn't even allow him that leisure had he chosen to actually try to read.

"Yes. Did nobody inform you of this?" The lady asked, sounding as though she were forcing a frown into her voice.

"No. . ." May trailed off. Brendan spared her a glance and noticed that she was nipping at her black-clothed fingertips with her teeth, an old nervous habit of hers. Oddly enough, though, he had never seen her use it since they met on the S.S. Tidal; perhaps his presence had something to do with sparking it again? His face pinked at the thought, and he silently, he scolded himself for his self-flattering. "Could you please explain these two extra features of the Contests to me, please?"

"Very well," The blue-haired lady said somewhat exasperatingly. "First, instead of directly appealing, you dress up your Pokemon,"—Brendan's ears perked up at the words; he had a great knack for dressing up his Pokemon, but of course, only May and Wally knew about this—"and a special instrument measures the volume of the audience that determines part of your grade in this section. The three judges' votes determine the other half of your score in this section, and they judge based on the creativity of the outfit, how compatible the outfit is with the Pokemon, among some other things. No Pokemon moves may be used in the Dress-Up part of the Contest. Usually, the top thirty-two then goes to the next part of the Contest.

"The next part of the Contest is the dancing part." The lady continued. May looked at her, raising quizzical eyebrows, and she continued to explain, "We split the thirty-two Coordinators and their Pokemon into eight parts, each consisting of four Coordinators and their Pokemon. One Coordinator's Pokemon is to invent a series of intuitive, thirty-second dance moves—none must be type-exclusive—and then the other three Pokemon are to try their best at imitating. We use both computer-image processing, the volume of the audience, and the judge's votes to decide the two Coordinators and their Pokemon that are to continue onto the Appeal Section of the Contest.

"The Appeal section is just that. Sixteen Coordinators appeal with their Pokemon, and they are permitted to use either their Dress-Up Pokemon or their Dance Pokemon to appeal. Eight Coordinators and their Pokemon go on to the final section of the Contest: the Battling. I trust you know what that is. The Coordinator must select either their Dress-Up, Dancing, or Appealing Pokemon to do battle. Now, any questions?" The lady asked, plastering on a large but rather fake-looking smile.

May took a while to comprehend the vast amount of information given to her, and Brendan smirked at her small display of naivety, thinking it to be cute. "Yeah, actually, I do have one question," May said at last. "Why are the new rules so complicated?"

The lady smiled again. "Its main purpose is to instigate a series of safeguards to insure that less worthy Coordinators don't find a way to squirm their way into collecting five ribbons."

"Aah," May answered, though she still looked like she had questions on her mind. Brendan noticed the growing line behind herself, and began to feel concerned for his friend. She had taken up the better part of ten minutes, after all. "Wait, when's the next Contest?"

"Tomorrow," The blue-haired lady answered crisply, dropping her patient smile and revealing obvious impatience underneath her crumpled fatigue. "Next, please!"

The brown-haired Coordinator hurriedly stepped out of line and walked towards Brendan. She opened her mouth to inform him of the changes in the Contest, but he simply nodded to indicate that he had heard. However, May still seemed as if she were unhappy about something or other. Angrily, she remarked, "Well, I don't care what they say, these new Contest sections are far too hard to bypass!"

Brendan thought he heard worry under her dissatisfied attitude. He guessed that she was most likely worried about whether or not she would be able to pass the two new requirements; and Brendan was ready to bet his entire wardrobe that May didn't have any clothes for her Pokemon. (Fortunately for her, though, he did.) However, Brendan wisely refrained from commenting—he had a good suspicion that May was in 'fire-breathing' mode.

Instead, he simply nodded along as May continued to rant about the injustice of it all.

**Cherrygrove City—14:56, September 5: Wednesday**

Maybelline Sapphire Maple inhaled sharply as she stumbled over a stray patch of grass growing in the town center. Brendan shot out a hand to steady her; May noticed instantly that his hand was ridiculously smooth, as if he had never gripped a Pokeball before in his entire life. For some reason as well, her lightly-tanned face flooded with color at the contact as well, and she flinched from the oddly pleasant sensation of his touch.

"Thanks," May said, shooting Brendan a grateful but somewhat delayed smile, owing to her taking up approximately ten seconds of her time studying his face and wondering just how it was he could keep retain such an untainted (and kind of ghostly, but in an eerily beautiful sort of way) milky-white complexion.

"No problem," Brendan replied; then, as if he could not stop himself, he blurted, "Would you like me to help you with the Dress-up section of the Contest tomorrow?"

"Could you really?" May asked, feeling gratitude glitter all over her blue eyes. "That would be awesome! Wait, are you still knitting shirts for your Pokemon?"

She hadn't intended her words to come out suspicious, but it must have, because Brendan began uncomfortably lifting the black collar of his short-sleeved vest up and down, as if he were feeling exceedingly warm. "Uh. . ." He answered uncertainly; glancing around to make sure that Max had indeed gone to the Pokemon Center as May had requested him to, he dropped his voice to a low whisper and continued, "Yes, as a matter of fact. But don't tell anyone—if my dad hears, he'll throw a fit." He shuddered.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone!" May reassured him. Then, before she could restrain herself, she asked, "Why would your dad get angry? From what I know of him and the time he helped rescue me from those Tentacool"—May stopped to shudder herself—"he's a really decent father."

Brendan's face instantly darkened, and May began regretting asking him the question. _What could be wrong in his family? _She asked herself, wallowing in her guiltiness. However, the apparition of a certain green-haired teenager caught her eye, and, tearing her gaze wistfully off of Brendan's shadowed ruby eyes, she looked to her right, only to witness Drew trying (desperately?) to pull a hand-woven purple shirt over a very stubborn Roselia's head.

"Hey! Drew! What're you doing?" May asked, bouncing over to her rival's side, completely forgetting about Brendan. She couldn't help but giggle—the sight of Drew trying to make his Roselia wear the shirt was ridiculously comical. It was rare to see the green-haired Coordinator unsuccessful in any venture.

"Merely trying to get Roselia to wear this shirt." Drew answered. His right eye twitched ever so slightly as the Rose Pokemon, with a defiant sort of 'Zelll!' tore off her lavender shirt and thrust it at Drew's feet.

"Oh, she doesn't seem to like it very much," May giggled again, as she watched Drew hastily pick up the shirt from the ground.

The green-haired Coordinator, trying to look dignified, flipped his hair a little quicker than usual. "Why wouldn't she? It is an article of high class art." Roselia stared, dumbfounded, at her Coordinator, but made no comment except for a small 'Liia.'

"And I'm a Grumpig," May said, making a somewhat pitiful stab at sarcasm.

"You speak only truth," Drew said coolly; his reply colored May's face a most majestic purple.

"Hey!" She snapped; from somewhere to her left, she heard Brendan pad over.

"Oh, it's you. Brandon, is it? Oh, no, wait, Brenna?" Drew asked as Brendan appeared by May's side. It was almost impossible to ignore the black-haired Trainer—he, at six solid feet (give or take an inch), towered quite splendidly over May's pitiful five feet three. May noticed again that Brendan and Drew were of equal height.

"It's _Brendan_." Brendan ground out. His face was pulled into a fierce grimace. "If I remember correctly, your name is Andy?"

"Please, call me Drew." The green-haired Coordinator corrected, flipping his hair again. May could not help but twitch her right eye at his idiosyncrasy, though she also admired the way Drew's gorgeous, silky green hair caught the light with the faintest ripple. She sort of wished her own hair would have that effect.

"No, thanks. I like Andy better." Brendan replied, in that same uncharacteristically annoying and irritable voice.

"Very well, _Brenna._"

"You know what? I don't think I'll call you Andy anymore." Brendan snapped heatedly. May was slightly taken aback; Brendan hardly displayed emotions of hatred, or at least in front of her. She braced herself for his next venom-laced words, "Your name is now. . ."—Brendan paused for dramatic effect—"Grass Ass."

Drew dropped his smug façade, revealing much indignity and looking highly affronted. However, he covered it up with a remarkably quickly flick of his chartreuse bangs. "What would you be, then?" A sudden, mischievous eye shone in Drew's crystalline celadon eyes. "Wait. . . I have the perfect idea. From now on, you shall be called 'Santa Claus'. Or 'Frosty'. Or 'Snowy'. It's interchangeable, see?"

May's mouth dropped in shock; Brendan widened his eyes in indignation—they now looked not dissimilar to two plates.

"EXCUSE ME?!" The black-haired Trainer demanded, ruby eyes flashing with rage May had never seen before. His milky-white complexion was rapidly purpling, though it was nothing compared to the state of May's face. "I'll. . . I'll. . ."

Whatever Brendan was threatening to do to Drew, however, was interrupted by a flick of the green-haired Coordinator's hair. "It makes sense," Drew continued with a snigger, "You are the only idiot I know of who conceals his hair so valiantly. Except for, of course, May over here."

The brown-haired Coordinator, whose mouth had still been hanging open in disbelief, snapped it shut immediately. "Hey!" She interjected huffily.

Drew's crystalline celadon gaze wandered over to meet May's. She realized with a jolt in the pit of her stomach just how clear his eyes were, but refused to voice her sentiment. Roselia sniffed. "Whatever, May. See you around, in tommorow's Contest. I'm off to do some _real _Contest practicing," Drew said, smirking. He reached into the right pocket of his purple vest and pulled out a rose, tossing it to May, who caught it with relevant ease.

She did not bother to ask what it was for.

**Cherrygrove City—14:56, September 5: Wednesday**

Brendan's Milotic, Mimi, flexed her elongated body, irritably flicking her glittering tail to the left to ward off the sweltering heat. Her long pink eyebrow-fins drooped depressingly to touch the back of her cream-furred neck, though her obsidian eyes were staring fixedly at the far but still visible coastline. She longed quite desperately to be able to dip in and out of the cold waves, reminiscing with the sea.

Her master's, "Mimi! 'Water Pulse' on Blaziken, now!" startled her out of her temporary reverie. Annoyed, she shot him a glance that said clearly, 'Damnit Brendan, I'm not a Feebas anymore.'

As a result, the Tender Pokemon did not comply immediately with Brendan's wishes. Instead, she rebelliously shot an 'Ice Beam' at May's Blaziken, slower than usual. The Flame Pokemon dodged the attack with graceful ease, though bore a look of apprehension at Milotic's obvious lack of interest in the make-shift Contest Battle.

"How come your Milotic's not attacking well, Brendan?" May asked, scratching her red bandana. The black-haired Trainer gave a shrug as an answer, clearly perplexed by Mimi's behavior. _Hmph. Serves him right for waking me up so early in the morning_, the Milotic thought self-righteously. "Well, if your Mimi won't attack, I guess Blaziken and I will have to! Blaziken, 'Blaze Kick'!"

The bird-like Pokemon chirped obediently and leapt into the air, allowing flames to envelope his right leg. He twirled around before aiming to slam his blazing leg into Milotic's side. However, Milotic readily deflected his attack with a well-aimed 'Water Pulse'. The Blaziken bounced off the pressurized water attack and stumbled onto his feet on the cement.

"Mimi, come on! Please listen to me!" Brendan hissed, sounding desperate but happy that they were gaining the upper hand in battle, and yet embarrassed that he played no part in their small victory. "Please! I'm begging you!"

The Milotic was not a cruel Pokemon—she remembered the many times Brendan had stood up for her during her year-long tenure as a Feebas, the many times Brendan had defended her when others had caustically remarked that she was a hideous beast, unworthy of living. Flicking the thought away as she had no desire to cry in front of May and her somewhat jumpy Blaziken, whom Mimi did not have a lot of fond memories for, she turned her serpentine head towards Brendan to signal that she was listening.

"All right, Mimi! Attack with another 'Water Pulse'!" Brendan declared happily, pointing his finger towards May's Blaziken, who lowered his wet red head, preparing to dodge should his Coordinator give the word to. Mimi 'whoooed' in compliance and, unhinging her graceful jaws, allowed a stream of white-blue water to tunnel through the air towards the Blaze Pokemon.

"Dodge now!" May cried shrilly. The Blaziken leapt aside, but not in time, owing to the fact that the battle had already progressed for twenty minutes, which was far past the Contest time limit (though nobody seemed to notice), and the fact that he had been weakened already by the Milotic's previous 'Water Pulse'.

The Blaze Pokemon was soaked through by the eerily powerful water attack and collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily and trembling. Mimi felt a surge of sympathy towards him, despite her previous misgivings about the Blaziken, and more instinctively than not, let a thin layer of pink light cushion her entire body and then let the soothing energy travel through the air towards Blaziken, who stopped shuddering the moment the pink light touched his side.

May looked at the Milotic wonderingly, and as if searching for a rational explanation for Mimi's 'healing' behavior, whipped out her pink Pokedex and turned it towards the Tender Pokemon's direction.

"Milotic, the Tender Pokemon," The Pokedex beeped, "It is oftentimes considered to be the most beautiful Pokemon of all, and has been depicted in many paintings, statues, and other works of art. When this Pokemon's body glows a vivid pink, it releases a pulsing wave of energy that brings soothing calm to restless spirits."

"Oh, so that was what it was," May mused aloud, snapping her Pokedex shut and dipping her head gratefully towards Mimi's direction. Brendan pinked; his Milotic waved her tail to say that it was nothing. May's Blaziken turned a bright red when he found Mimi looking curiously at him (simply to check if he had been severely injured by the battle).

As May returned her Blaziken with the slightest of sighs, Mimi thought she saw Brendan's Gallade's, Ruru, Pokeball twitch unsettlingly.

**Author's Notes:**

**Well! That's it for chapter four! The Contest is in the next chapter. :o**

**Brendan's Milotic really is named Mimi, according to the Pokemon Special Manga. All of his Pokemon are named after the ones he had in the Special Manga, or named in the same style at least.**

**Also, do you find the constant spelling out of the characters' full names annoying? I wanted to keep the habit with the gradual inclusion of more people/Pokemon. . . and Pokemon, of course. Lol. I'm also sorry if the constant POV changes annoy you, but I just couldn't find any better times to swap. . . efufu.**

**Oh, and do you think the new Contest rules are a little too complicated? I based them off of Diamond and Pearl's new Contest requirements, as you could probably already tell. I personally think they're kind of rigged, but I want your opinions on the matter first.**

**Do you think I'm making this story a little too fast-paced? I know it's a bit unrealistic how they can get from New Bark Town to Cherrygrove City in less than one chapter, but I don't want things to drag on and on forever like Natural Disturbances. . . Eck! Anyway, the Contest will be split into two chapters, since I didn't manage to get a lot of actual Contest practicing into the chapter. . . meh.**

**Myaah! I **_**really **_**need to start shifting the attention from Romance to ADVENTURE. Oh, and only PSYCHIC Pokemon and Legends are capable of speech in this story. Because that **_**only **_**makes logical sense. . . However, Psychic Pokemon such as Brendan's Gallade (and later on, **_**possibly **_**May's Espeon) are able to translate Pokespeech for their Trainers. (:**

**I'm sorry I haven't been able to incorporate any of your OCs into my story yet. . . –shudders as everyone shoots glares– However, they will be coming up after the Contest chapter. (: Oh, trust me, they will.**

**And about 'Grass Ass'—I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. . . **

**Damn, I write a lot of A/N stuff. . . lol.**

**Please review!**


	5. Cherrygrove Contest Part I

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Pokemon, m'kay?  
**Dedication: **Jarkes—an anonymous reviewer—for his vote of constant confidence.  
**Chapter Rating**: T for swearing and Drew wondering why some people think he's gay.  
**OC'S In Use: **Lyokoluva's _JoJo Dodgson_ and Aqua059's _Holly_

So. Thank you all SO much for the reviews (and the OCs). They made me feel so warm and fuzzy inside.

As you may have noticed, I decided to do my A/N's like this for now. Lots more organized, no? I never really liked constantly using bold. As an additional note, this is the _last chapter _for which you can submit OCs. See the OC submission form in chapter three's end Author's Notes if you wish to submit one.

And now, without further ado, allow me to present to you the rewritten chapter five of Johto Adventures!

**Chapter Five—Cherrygrove Contest Part One**

**Cherrygrove City Pokemon Center—07:00, September 6: Thursday**

Brendan Ruby Birch leapt punctually out of bed, just as the ramshackle alarm clock to the right of his pillow began giving its routine series of high-pitched beeps. He lightly tapped the top of the beeping clock to silence it—then, stretching in his newly purchased pajamas (which he was planning on redesigning somewhere in the very near future—_Ick, red and neon-purple do NOT go, any fashion idiot could see tha_t), Brendan made his way towards his pile of clothes.

The previous night, he had piled all of his dirty clothes into the Pokemon Center's shared laundry room, letting May and Max heap their own soiled outfits into it discreetly, so he would not experience the displeasure of seeing Max's probably Treeko-printed boxers. Now, as he shifted through the piles of multi-colored cloth he bought yesterday at the closest cloth-stocked convenience store with which he intended to create May's Pokemon's clothes, Brendan pulled out his old yellow-cuffed outfit and proceeded into the small bathroom to change.

Several minutes later, he exited, completely refreshed; he even had the time to swipe on a little—_Just a little! _Brendan reassured himself, nothing too feminine_—_mascara and had applied the _faintest _tinge of red lipstick to his reasonably pallid lips. He was reasonably satisfied that he had been able to find the right shade of it to compliment his eye color.

In fact, it was his Gallade who procured his whole makeup kit from who-knows-where with a simple extended 'Teleport' in the first place. Brendan didn't even know his Pokemon retained the ability to move things psychically with his telepathic powers, since Ruru already knew four physical techniques. Well, he wasn't complaining that the Gallade's memory was more retentive than usual.

Shrugging the thought away, Brendan pulled his Pokeball belt from underneath the pile of cloth and strapped it around his waist, before exiting through the doorway and closing the door carefully behind himself so as to not awaken May or Max. He proceeded down the escalator, which had just begun working, and, after waving cordially to a practically beaming Nurse Joy, left the Pokemon Center through the sliding doors.

He shivered slightly at the sudden drop in temperature—although not very large—and plunging his gloved hands into his pants' pockets, shuffled down the street and headed straight towards the spacious courtyard he and May had trained in the previous day. Brendan recalled, after winning to May in the first round, deliberately feigning loss in the next two that ensued so as to boost her morale, having forgotten about trying not to destroy her self-confidence in the midst of battle and the agony of trying to get his Milotic to obey him.

Needless to say, his Aggron was not altogether happy about purposefully 'losing' against May's Squirtle—whom Brendan learned through battle was relatively fast and good at defenses but lacking in attack power despite his small size and lack of evolutionary advantage. Brendan's Dragonite Dradra, always the studious and staid one, however, didn't mind that much about losing against May's most vociferous Eevee, who Brendan found out was disturbingly agile and had a powerful array of attack moves to match with though lacking in defenses.

"Come on out, Ruru," Brendan said as he flipped out the Gallade. The Blade Pokemon courteously bowed when he solidified a few seconds later.

'Why did you let Mimi battle May's _Blaziken_?' Ruru demanded uncharacteristically quickly and harshly. Brendan cocked an eyebrow—it was unusual for his Gallade to be so churlish. Then as if trying to compensate for his burst of rudeness, added in a noticeably strained telepathic voice, 'Master?'

"Didn't I tell you _not _to call me that?" Brendan asked tiresomely, shaking his head.

'Sorry. . . master. But please, I implore you to answer my question.'

"Well. . . I kind of forgot about the promise I made to you, and besides, Milotic had been cooped up in that Pokeball for several hours straight without really doing anything—you know how grumpy she can get if she doesn't stretch herself for a whole day." The Trainer explained.

'I see. Shall we start our morning routine, then?' Ruru inquired. Brendan, who had slowly been drawing back in preparation of their daily spar, nodded and without further ado, lunged at Ruru, who nimbly dodged the savage attack at his abdomen.

Exactly thirty-two seconds later, the Gallade had Brendan pinned onto the ground. He lifted his hands to signal defeat, and Ruru drew back, allowing his Trainer to indignantly pull himself to his feet and dust his pants.

'That was fast.' Ruru commented dryly. Brendan shot him a glare before extinguishing the somewhat degrading option of asking his Gallade to coach him in the martial arts, though his systematic and ever-logical brain did stow that notion somewhere in the back of his mind for future reference, should they be in immediate danger from. . . Aerodactyl or something.

However, Brendan couldn't restrain himself from making a sarcastic retort of his own. "No freaking _shit_."

Ruru tilted his ivory-and-celadon head to one side, as if contemplating his Trainer's (more than) slight change in attitude. Brendan helped dismiss his Gallade's misgivings with an informal wave before trying to switch the subject with, "Wanna help me sew?"

The Gallade's sophisticated façade shattered as he parted his small mouth to form a puzzled and surprised expression; however, he quickly picked up the remnants to form a mask of lopsided dignified apprehension. 'Excuse me?'

"You heard what I said."

'When you said sew, did you mean _sew-_sew?'

"Yes."

'I thought you dropped that habit years ago when your father—' Ruru began to say, stopping abruptly when Brendan shot him a practically murderous glare. The Gallade then obediently succumbed to his Trainer's demands and hurriedly teleported the necessary equipment from the Pokemon Center to in front of themselves with a strong flick of his psychic powers.

"Good," Brendan finally said, nimbly plucking the required cloth—all dark—from the floating pile of stuff. After selecting several other necessary items, such as a needle and a wheel of elegant raven thread, he let Ruru return the lessened pile back to the Pokemon Center. "Now. Let's get working, shall we?"

He perched himself on the side of the fountain and, taking a particularly glossy looking piece of long black cloth, began cutting meticulously with a pair of scissors while Ruru kept the rest of the materials suspended in midair.

**Cherrygrove City—08:42, September 6: Thursday**

May's Eevee hopped around on her four small, cream-furred paws, wagging her bushy brown tail around energetically as May tried (and failed) to return her to the Pokeball. She dove through the earth with immaculate ease, only to appear out of the floor several moments later, twitching her fox-like ears in a manner just to annoy her master.

The brown-haired Coordinator's eye twitched ominously. The black-haired boy, who Eevee guessed to be a little older than May and whose Aggron was very scary, was watching May uncertainly and exchanging hesitant glances with Max, who had dropped the magazine he had been reading.

"Eevee! Get back in here! You don't need to be out right now!" May shouted angrily, brandishing the Pokeball in agony. Eevee wagged her tail rebelliously, a wicked grin forming on her feline face, which only caused May to cry in anguish.

"Chill, May," Brendan admonished, looking very nervous. May 'chilled' and jerkily stuffed Eevee's Pokeball back into her yellow fanny pack, though grumbling darkly as she did so. The DNA Pokemon turned to smugly simper in front of May's Blaziken—he was the one who was actually supposed to be out.

"All right now, Blaziken, let's see if these clothes fit," May said, turning her back on Eevee, who, by way of trying to recapture her master's attention, dove between May's two thin sock-wearing legs and rubbed affectionately against the brown-haired Coordinator's left ankle. The tense muscles in May's feet relaxed somewhat, and Eevee began plotting her next trick.

The DNA Pokemon spared her teammate some sentiment, though. The Eevee directed her large amber eyes upwards—and upwards—and upwards—and Blaziken couldn't be this tall, could he?—and upwards—and upwards—until her gaze swept the Blaze Pokemon's stiff head.

Blaziken looked highly uncomfortable as the Brendan boy, who was a little bit taller than himself, attempted to stuff a white shirt over his head. Long seconds later, the Blaze Pokemon looked awkward in his human wear, but Brendan didn't stop to give him a chance to collect his thoughts, and proceeded to thrust a new layer of darker cloth over his head.

It was all Eevee could do to prevent from laughing out loud. While Max revealed nothing in his dark blue eyes, only reverence shown on May's gleaming light-tan face as Brendan, for the finishing touch, tied a silk-like red piece of cloth around the Blaziken's forearm. The DNA Pokemon bounced back to get a better look of her teammate, and could not help but guffaw quietly at the sight of Blaziken strutting about uncomfortably in his tuxedo. Yes. _Tuxedo._

"Wow! Blaziken looks really cool, Brendan!" May beamed, lacing her arms appreciatively around the black-haired boy's neck. His milky-white complexion began to glow pink, but Eevee decided not to waste her time on frivolous matters such as the color changes of human faces. Instead, she leapt onto a curb to better examine the Blaziken.

To be completely honest, Eevee didn't think Blaziken looked that bad, just a little out-of-place. Pokemon didn't normally wear clothing after all, but Eevee thought that the Blaziken just might be able to pass for a long-haired blond human if Brendan or someone redid the Blaze Pokemon's two streaks of creamy head feathers.

Blaziken didn't look as if he shared Eevee's views on this, though; he clucked his red beak in embarrassment—perhaps partially because of Eevee's laughter—and lowered his head so that his beak was hidden entirely in his small mane of light-colored feathers.

".:Well, it's not all that bad,:." Eevee remarked.

".:Easy for you to say. Didn't you hear what that blue-haired receptionist lady said? I'm supposed to look like this in front of hundreds of humans and their Pokemon,:." Blaziken retorted in his usual scratchy voice, crossing his gray-scaled arms over his black-clothed chest..

".:Of course I heard. I have the best hearing of all you prats,:." Eevee replied snappily, arrogantly thrusting her small head into the air and streamlining her elongated ears against her bushy furred neck.

".:You only remind us every three seconds,:." Blaziken said, pulling his head out of his mane to roll his eyes so that Eevee could see. She glowered at him, and deciding that since she was obviously not getting the attention that she heartily deserved, leapt back into her Pokeball as obediently as ever.

**Cherrygrove City Contest Hall—10:51, September 6: Thursday**

Andrew Rosalind leaned back against a random locker, glad to be deprived of his most supportive fangirls' screams and shouts of 'Marry me!' and 'I want to bear your children!' He shuddered at the memories. Truth be told, he did not mind the extra attention he received, nor the bountiful presents delivered to him at regular intervals, but sometimes the girls' suggestions were a little overwhelming; not the mention the disturbing fact that there were some _boys _in the mix.

_Fangirls, _Drew observed, _aren't all that bad. Unless they go on one of their 'sprees'. _He shuddered and felt glad that none of the other Coordinators in the locker room were fans of his—well, to be more specific, fangirls; or even worse, fan_boys._ Drew was sick of explaining to all his queer fanboys and occasional yaoi fangirls that he was not gay. Sure, he was a Coordinator, which had feminine allusions, and, if he must admit it himself, he was drop-dead gorgeous, but that did not necessarily mean that he was gay.

Continuing his ponderings on fangirlism, Drew came to the conclusion that only the truly obsessed fangirls were the ones he had to watch out for; and also the ones who would interrupt his conversations with May. At this thought, he knitted his green brows in distaste. He really didn't like it when people interrupted him on the whole, but he hated it _especially _when they interrupted his conferences with May. Why, though, escaped him.

Tilting his head to one side and allowing his silky chartreuse hair to cascade into his emerald eyes, he wondered why May hadn't shown up yet. The preliminary rounds of the Contest were bound to start in less than ten minutes, and yet there was no sign of her cute red bandana. Er, he meant ugly, horribly designed, excuse for a head dressing, as Drew had so graciously informed May of on several occasions.

"Silly girl," He muttered to himself as fresh memories of his encounter with May drifted luxuriously through his mind. However, as the more recent reminiscences crossed his brain, Brendan entered his head and Drew found himself tightening his grip around his Absol's Pokeball so hard that he heard the Disaster Pokemon give an audible whimper of uncertainty.

Swear words gathered themselves on the tip of Drew's tongue, but he held them back and resumed a sulky demeanor, flicking his bangs irritably out of his vision. He couldn't quite say why, but he hated Brendan, down to his very guts; everything from his girly mannerisms—come on, _sewing?!_—to his black-and-green sneakers.

However, what Drew hated the most about Brendan was how he was traveling with May. A few days previously, the green-haired Trainer had entertained the possibility of asking May to come with him on his Pokemon journey. . . but now that stupid Brendan had taken it! Why was it every time Drew was so close. . .?!  
_First, I need to kill Brendan, _Drew contemplated, half-jokingly, half-serious. _Then, I'll get May. _No, wait, that sounded a little drastic. And why did he want May?He shook the thought away and took some time in examining the people surrounding him.

There weren't a lot of particularly intriguing people, though two people in particular caught Drew's interest. One, a tall boy a few inches shorter than Drew, was quite conspicuous, owing to the fact that he was clutching a large PokeEgg in his arms. Drew eyed the Coordinator's frayed blue jeans critically and silently deplored the teenager's shoulder-length brown hair, and the several streaks of shiny blond hair that ran through the mass of russet was somewhat annoying, to Drew at least.

The other was a girl who looked no older than ten years of age and who was clad in a plain white T-shirt and khaki shorts that seemed a bit too staid for her terra-cotta hair. A Phanpy, wearing a sizeable lemon-yellow one-piece dress, was constantly curling and uncurling at his somewhat short Trainer's feet. The girl, meanwhile, displayed only mixed nervousness and fear in her large gray-green eyes.

Drew looked away. _Boring, _He thought to himself, flicking his hair in a blasé manner and checking his fingernails to make sure that he had not accidentally chipped his recently manicured nails. When at last he was satisfied, the green-haired Coordinator glanced upwards to notice May bouncing in through the open door, wearing an expression of determination and excitement on her practically radiant face.

Smirking, Drew thought to himself, _Talk about timing, _and flipped out his Roselia, who appeared in a beam of red light. The Thorn Pokemon annoyingly tugged at her purple shirt, which Drew had slaved over for quite some time, and stiffly unfurled her two hand-held roses while edgily fidgeting in her layered pink skirt. Overall, Drew was rather pleased with the outfit he managed to design, though it stilled look a little weird, and probably was not very comfortable to wear.

_Well, I almost forgot that anything I made is nothing short of perfection, _Drew reminded himself. Redirecting his attention to May, who was introducing herself to the Phanpy's Coordinator, he sauntered overly swaggeringly to gain her attention.

May, slightly disoriented, turned her electric blue gaze to meet Drew's eyes. He appreciated the tranquil beauty her eyes possessed, though at the present moment, his goal was to cause her as much distress as possible. Drew was a weird person in many ways."Oh, May, so you really did enter the Contest?"

He saw her expression harden and could almost hear Butterfree fluttering in her stomach. "Well of course, Drew. I'm a Pokemon Coordinator, after all, so you can't expect me to miss out on any Contests!"

"Based on your tardy record, a complete idiot can confidently say that you probably won't arrive on time for any Contest." Drew retaliated coolly as his Roselia twitched in her outfit. He watched as May huffed in reply and as her gaze dropped to the Thorn Pokemon's clothing and as her eyes widened in astonishment.

"Wow!" May could not restrain herself from blurting.

"As I've told you before, nothing that I do can ever go wrong," Drew said thickly, flipping his hair to boost his egotism. May frowned and looked as if she regretted her words.

"Well, I bet my Blaziken's outfit is ten times better than your Roselia's!" May retorted, huffing again and crossing her arms defiantly over her voluptuous chest. Drew tried hard not to look there.

"We'll see." Drew said simply, imitating May and crossing his arms over his own chest.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," May replied, attempting to copy Drew's smug voice. She failed.

The intercom buzzed to life, and the previously somewhat subdued crowd buzzed to life as well. The Coordinators muttered amongst themselves as the clear voice of a woman blared over the loudspeaker, "May Holly Ark please report to the stage to begin part one of the Contest."

The terra-cotta haired girl Drew had spared a glance not so long ago immediately leapt from the seat she had been sitting on and grabbed her Phanpy, looking practically terrified. She ran towards a random wall only to smack into a locker. Confused, she gathered her bearings and continued towards the correct door; the anticipated roar of the crowd drifted through the door as Holly opened it and disappeared as it closed.

Drew sniggered at the girl's mishap, but May simply looked sympathetic, something which the brown-haired Coordinator was too much of to be safe. Oddly enough, it was a quality Drew rarely found in other people, and even more oddly, he found this especially appealing in May, though he never told her. Shrugging the thought away, he waited for his turn.

A minute later, the Holly and her Phanpy burst back through the door. Both Coordinator and Pokemon looked positively terrified, though the reckonable roar of the crowd behind the door begged to say otherwise. Drew had other thoughts on his mind, though—the crowd's loud noises could easily be boos. Couple that with the fact that there was a squashed tomato on the girl's forehead.

The green-haired teenager refrained from commenting rudely—he had never out-right insulted anyone in public, save for May. Said brown-haired girl, however, warmly said in the direction of the young girl, "Are you all right?"

Holly looked towards May, ostensibly surprised that she had spoken. Her face bore an expression of palpable alarm. "Uh, yeah, I guess so," She answered, hesitantly and nervously while her Phanpy helped lick off the tomato from her forehead. Red juice ran down the sides of her cheeks, and she pulled out a large bunch of tissues from her left shorts pocket and began wiping her face.

Undeterred by the auburn-haired girl's erratic actions, May put in, "Well, I'm sure you'll do better next time."

"Oh, er, thanks, I guess," The girl said, raising her eyebrows in a taken-aback manner. Drew didn't blame her—May's direct ways surprised a lot of people. Before the brown-haired Coordinator could continue, however, a certain purple-haired Coordinator distracted her, and everyone within a mile-wide radius.

"_MAY! _Is that _you, _hun?" A high-pitched forced-sounding feminine voice shrieked. Drew cringed instinctively and very edgily pivoted on the spot so that he could just barely make out the tall, lanky figure of none other than the infamous Harley.

Said gender-confused Coordinator had sprayed excessive amounts of perfume onto himself; Drew turned away to prevent from gagging. Harley's wavy waist-length dark wisteria hair swung back and forth excitably as he giggled away while chatting nonsense with May, who looked respectably apprehensive.

"Oh, no," Drew heard May groan quietly.

"Oh my Arceus! Like May! It's really you! Haha, I'd recognize your tomato-red"—Holly's eyebrows disappeared higher into her mass of red-brown hair at the analogy—"bandana anywhere! Seriously! Wow! So you really _did _come to Johto, huh? Wow! That's pretty amazing! I thought that you'd be lost, but. . ." Harley's previously positively blissful expression rapidly distorted to one of sourness, but he plastered on a huge smile so quickly it was startling.

"Er," May began uncertainly, flashing her large almond-shaped eyes despairingly toward Drew. He felt his pulse quicken for a split second before it slowed down to normal speed.

"Wow! May! We have so much catching up to do!" Harley exclaimed, clasping his rather spider-like hands together in excitement. Drew, bemused, watched as May recoiled in horror and as her right hand twitch toward her yellow fanny pack. Too soon, however, Harley was already engaging her in fervent conversation, albeit the talking was very much one-sided. The green-haired Coordinator wondered vaguely when the talk would end.

**Cherrygrove Contest Hall—11:18, September 6: Thursday**

Maybelline Sapphire Maple squirmed in her seat, waiting impatiently for her name to be called. Drew stood next to her, leaning coolly against the locker, and probably thinking of another insult to throw at her. However, May didn't preoccupy her thoughts with Drew, though she desperately wanted something to distract herself from the Contest and strangely enough talking with Drew usually made her forget about her nerves, and instead focused them on not collapsing on the floor when it came her turn.

_Well, at least Harley went to use the bathroom. . . _May thought to herself optimistically. Though the fact that he had been in there for well over ten minutes was unnerving; May wondered what could possibly be taking so long, and prayed to Latias that he was suffering a severe case of constipation.

"May May Maple please report to the stage." The loudspeaker boomed.

With unnessecary vigor, May bounced up, squealing insanely, "That's me! That's me!" and earning herself a few odd looks from nearby Coordinators and a patronizing smirk from Drew. Rushing through the door, she leapt energetically onto the wooden stage, staring into the dark abyss that was the audience.

Her breath caught in her throat as she tilted her head upwards, looking at the huge Contest Hall. The décor was highly ornate and mostly pink as if to complement the whole color theme of the town. The stage was far larger than May had envisioned it to be, as if Johto's Contest Halls were trying to outdo their Kanto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh counterparts.

She flung her Blaziken's Pokeball into the air. The Blaze Pokemon appeared in a beam of red light. If the Blaziken was nervous, he sure did not show it. Standing at an intimidating six foot three, the fire-typed Pokemon thrust his head confidently into the air, showing off his sleek black tuxedo.

The effect was immediate. The audience began clapping and shouting uproariously. May's blue gaze flitted to a glowing bar somewhere above her head that spelled in large letters, "CROWD BAR." Below the shining pink letters, liquid-like light began filling up the bar. Just a few bare seconds later, the entire thing was filled. May was nearly deafened by the incredible amount of sound the audience was making, and could barely comprehend the popularity of her Blaziken's costume.

The three judges, whom May had just noticed, hit buttons on their separate panels and three '10's shimmered into being on the large screen above her head. Her heart swelled with pride, though all that came out of her mouth were stuttering "thank yous".

The orange-haired MC danced onto the stage, next to a still-stuttering May, waving cordially at the crowd and remarking into her microphone, "Well, that sure is an awesome outfit, May! It's also the first time in Johto's Contest history that both the crowd bar _and _the judges' scores are perfect! Ms. Maple's name is going down in the records!"

The crowd responded by raising its volume. May simply did not know what to say; suddenly, a qualm of guiltiness hit her. _I didn't make the costume. Brendan did. _Her heart immediately deflated and continued shrinking. Shakily, she returned her Blaziken and half-walked half-ran off the stage, much to the audience's disappointment.

A nasty feeling began bubbling in the pit of her stomach, but she ignored it and walked back into the Coordinator's locker room, collapsing feebly and half-heartedly pushing Blaziken's Pokeball into her fanny pack, muting the comforting chirps he had been giving her.

"What's the matter, _May_?" The serene but drawling voice of Drew came from somewhere above her. Her bottom lip wobbled, and she swallowed a cantaloupe-sized lump in her throat. "You look nervous. Did the audience throw vegetables at you?"

Guiltiness transformed readily into anger. "Hey! No, they didn't!" She turned her blue gaze to irately face Drew.

"Then why such the long face?" The green-haired Coordinator asked, suavely flicking his bangs to further irritate May. A low growl escaped her throat, and cogs in her brain turned as she searched for a smart retort.

"For your information! I got a _perfect _score, Mister big head!" She snapped, widening one eye and twitching the other.

Drew raised an eyebrow in disbelief, though he lowered it rather quickly. "You're still avoiding my question."

May could only gape. _I can't believe this guy! I got a perfect score, went down in history, AND THAT'S WHAT HE SAYS?!_

"Yoo-hoo? You deaf?" Taunting, as usual.

"No. . ." May grinded out, fighting the instinctive urge to slam her partially gloved fist in Drew's smug-looking face. She contented herself with swearing inwardly at the green-haired teenager. To her sincere surprise, Drew didn't make any further snide remarks. On a whimsical sort of self-dare, May glanced up towards the boy only to see him sniggering contemptuously at the screen.

At that moment, however, the tall egg-clutching boy had walked over. May turned quizzically toward the approaching Coordinator, her eyebrows disappearing into her unruly brown bangs, hazily remembering him as a certain J-something D-something. Drew continued watching the screen, though May thought his eyebrow moved in uncertainty.

"Hi! My name's JoJo!" The brown-haired Coordinator said excitably, grasping May's hand before she could respond. May, being somewhat used to such direct greetings, readily returned the handshake and beamed at him—she enjoyed socializing above almost everything except for a decent meal and. . . a decent meal. Seeing out of the corner of her eye, May could have sworn she saw Drew snigger contemptuously at the brown-haired Coordinator. "I'm from Twinleaf! What's your name? Where're you from?"

"Hello! My name's May Maple, and I come from Petalburg City!" May replied, reciting an overused speech she had stored in her vastly empty brain.

"No! You can't be—are you the daughter of that Norman guy?" Jojo asked, ogling May as if she were some celebrity; or, in this cause, some daughter of a celebrity.

"Yes! His name's not Norman _guy, _his name's Norman Maple, though," May corrected.

"Oh. Okay. Anyway. . . I heard you placed fourth in the Kanto Grand Festival? How'd you do that? That's really good! I've only managed to place in the top sixteen of the Sinnoh Grand Festival. . ." The Coordinator trailed off, looking slightly disappointed.

May opened her mouth to reply, but Drew unexpectedly answered the question for her. "She only managed to place so high because I let her."

JoJo hesitantly turned toward the green-haired Coordinator, who contemptuously pursed his lips and flicked his bangs in an overly casual manner. "And you are?" The brown-haired male asked. However, his left blue eye gleamed in recognition and he quickly corrected himself with an almost apologetic, "Wait, you're Drew Rosalind!"

"You got one thing right there, kid," Drew remarked patronizingly by way of reply.

"Woah. . ." JoJo said, looking as if he were reeling in from an extremely important piece of information that somehow altered his life. May wondered why everyone seemed to idolize Drew. He wasn't that great of a person, save for his beautiful head of silky green hair and most alluring pair of emerald eyes and the way his eyes twinkled sincerely whenever he let a rare laugh escape his throat—

Ah. That was why.

Shaking the thought away, the girl curled her gloved fists into balls, remembering the last thing Drew had said. Oh, they'll see.

**Author's Notes:**

I've only managed to include two OCs in this chapter. . . Sorry, but I just couldn't write any more people inside without making this chapter reallybig. I also apologize to the respective owners if I've butchered their looks/personalities. Even then they weren't featured so much. . . but they'll get more appearances in the future.

As you have probably noticed, or not, I tried my best to give the Pokemon some personalities. I haven't watched all that many Battle Frontier episodes, so what I know comes from several youtube sessions, Serebii, and Bulbapedia, so if I make a huge mistake regarding Pokemon personalities, please do inform me of it.

I'm sorry this chapter's a little shorter than the rest, but if I tried to squeeze in the ENTIRE Contest, trust me, it would have been AT LEAST twice as long. :P Hope you don't mind. Also, this is the LAST CHAPTER for which I am accepting OC's! I won't be accepting any until at least chapter eight.

**Next Chapter Preview—**

Harley sat on the toilet, fiddling with the hems of his long green sleeves. Latias, he would teach those brats a lesson! Anguishly, he tugged at his long purple hair as he desperately tried to think of a plan. Gah! He had used up all his plans lettered A—K, and he was just working on 'L' when his Wigglytuff accidentally 'wet' his Pokeball for the second time that day.

The purple-haired Coordinator was interrupted rudely by someone rapping sharply on the lavatory door. Irritably, he pulled up his pants, since he did not actually use the bathroom, and twisted on the tap to give the impression that he was washing his hands. Ending the flow of water with another twist of the tap, he irritably jerked open the plastic door, hissing an equally agonized 'what the heck do you want?!' across the thin threshold.

"You've been in there for twenty minutes," An angry, high-pitched feminine voice hissed back. Harley squinted his eyes and scrutinized the tall girl standing in front of himself. Black hair was pulled into a high, sophisticated bun, tied with a light azure ribbon, and he instinctively shuddered under her piercing yellow-green gaze.

"Oh _have _I, hun?!"

—**End Preview**

Ooh! Can't you just _guess _who the (new?) character is? Heh.

Please review!


	6. Cherrygrove Contest Part II

**The Johto Odyssey****  
**a Pokemon Fanfic by Galbinus-Rayquaza

**Disclaimer: **Very, very, very, very, _very_ sadly, I do not own Pokemon.  
**Dedication: **Daydreamer Gal for being an awesome reviewer and beta. (though not for this story.)  
**Chapter Rating: **K  
**OC's In Use: **Lyokoluva's_ JoJo Dodgson_ and Aqua059's _Holly_

Thanks for the reviews! As always, they were greatlyappreciated.

Also, if it's not too much of a bother, could you please comment on the new title of the fic? I'm not too confident about the sudden name change, so I'd like your feedback.

If you've forgotten the new Contest rules, I suggest that you go back to the fourth chapter to view the counter-lady's more detailed explanation. But it shouldn't be too hard to follow anyway. I've re-employed number-notes for this chapter, though I didn't put all too much in. And if I haven't emphasized this enough: No more OC's, please, until further notice. I really think that I have enough for now. Thank you if you've submitted one.

Well, enough with my useless blabber. On with the story!

**Chapter Six : Cherrygrove Contest Part II**

**Cherrygrove Contest Hall—11:22, September 6: Thursday**

Harley Davidson sat on the toilet, fiddling with the hems of his long green sleeves. Latias, he would teach those brats a lesson! Anguishly, he tugged at his long purple hair as he desperately tried to think of a plan. Gah! He had used up all his plans lettered A—K, and he was just working on 'L' when his Wigglytuff accidentally 'wet' his Pokeball for the second time that day.

The purple-haired Coordinator was interrupted rudely by someone rapping sharply on the lavatory door. Irritably, he pulled up his pants, since he did not actually use the bathroom, and twisted on the tap to give the impression that he was washing his hands. Ending the flow of water with another twist of the tap, he irritably jerked open the plastic door, hissing an equally agonized 'what the heck do you want?!' across the thin threshold.

"You've been in there for twenty minutes," An angry, high-pitched feminine voice hissed back. Harley squinted his eyes and scrutinized the tall girl standing in front of himself. Black hair was pulled into a high, sophisticated bun, tied with a light azure ribbon, and he instinctively shuddered under her piercing yellow-green gaze.

"Oh _have _I, hun?!" Harley snaps, pulling himself to his full height and towering over the girl by some good four or five inches. However, despite the fact that he was taller than her, the girl emanated a predatory sort of air that made him feel dwarfed by her intimidation. Of course, Harley, being Harley, did not show this, but simper irritably.

"Yes, you bloody well _have_, old lady," The black-haired girl grunted in reply.

"Hey! I'm not a woman!" Harley exclaimed, plastering an aghast expression on his pointy face, though he was secretly pleased that he had managed to fool _someone _into believing that he was female. Of course, the purple-haired man didn't detect the strong sense of sarcastic irony in the girl's voice.

"You sure _look _like one," The girl said, snorting perceptibly. Harley's face turned a shade of purple reminiscent of his hair color. Too flustered to speak, he could only splutter indignantly and fume as the girl sauntered past him and into the bathroom.

Clutching his face in anger, Harley let out a mixed stream of swear words and curses as the lavatory door shut behind him and locked with a resolute 'click.' Angrily, he roared in the direction of bathroom door barring him from the water closet, "Oh! You're almost as bad as May!"

The door flung open so quickly it was rather startling, and the purple-haired Coordinator had to leap back several inches to prevent his straight, long nose from being flattened by it. Harley was glad that the girl had not actually used the toilet. Wearing an expression of cool dignity, she stepped out of the bathroom and immediately shut the door behind herself. "Did you say May?" She asked, her voice toneless, though Harley suspected that it was forcibly so.

"Yes," Harley replied, a frown forming on his face. Why did she care, anyway?

"As in, Maybelline Sapphire Maple of Petalburg City?"

"Wahh—? You know her full name?" Harley said, feeling his mouth unhinge of its own accord.

The girl waved her hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter what I know or don't know." Harley suddenly felt struck by the eerie possibility that the girl knew ten times more about May Maple than he did, and he knew quite a lot. "Anyway. . . you don't like this May, do you?"

"Don't like her?_ Don't like her? I HATE HER GUTS!_" Harley bellowed, his voice rising dangerously with every syllable, and his face purpling to the exact same color of his lavender hair. When it came to hating May, he was a professional—literally, since he made some money off of beating her at the one Contest he beat her at.

A wry smile graced the refined facial features of the black-haired girl's face. "Let's talk business."

**Cherrygrove Contest Hall—11:24, September 6: Thursday**

Andrew Rosalind casually flicked his hair and shot May a smug glance as the loudspeakers boomed his name. "May Drew Rosalind please report to the stage."

The brown-haired girl leveled his confident emerald gaze with her sapphire eyes. A bit taken aback by the girl's noticeable boost in self-confidence—only a few weeks ago, she would have cowered and looked elsewhere—Drew shook the thought away and, by way of addressing his Roselia, tapped the Thorn Pokemon on the head and glided over to the back entrance to the stage. Some feet away, JoJo's dark blue jacket sleeves rustled quietly as his muscles tensed and his grip tightened around his PokeEgg.

Roselia gave a small growl which Drew hoped was nerves and not reluctance—admittedly, though the Thorn Pokemon was female, perhaps the outfit was a little too feminine—but began striding over to her Coordinator all the same. Content, Drew strode through the threshold and inhaled a healthy lungful of stage air, blinking rapidly as his light-colored eyes adjusted to the intensity of the spotlight.

As usual, Roselia had already voluntarily leapt back into her Pokeball, so that Drew could throw her out again for even more effect. The Thorn Pokemon appeared in a bright, spherical burst of red light, twirling around on the spot to flaunt her purple outfit. Her actions were met with cheers from the crowd, and the 'Crowd Bar' immediately began filling up.

However, after a good twenty seconds, the bar had not scraped past the 9/10 mark, and Drew was getting slightly worried. Was his outfit not good enough? He personally did not have much experience with making clothes, and though he hated to admit it, May's Blaziken's tuxedo was a lot better than his Roselia's tutu. It escaped Drew how May was able to design such a good outfit within twenty-four hours notice. She seemed far too clumsy to be able to wield needles without the need of being escorted to the most nearby hospital every five minutes.

He flipped his hair in an attempt to boost the 'Crowd Bar' number. Incredibly, it rose to a respectable 9.5/10. The shadowed silhouettes of the three judges simultaneously raised three boards, where the neon numbers '9', '8', and '10' flashed. The orange-haired MC bounced onto the spotlight—which Drew was most possessive of but reluctantly surrendered—and, raising her microphone to her lips, said cheerily, "What a great start for popular Coordinator Drew! And now for the next appeal!"

Drew felt highly offended that he was being pushed away to make space for an obviously less talented and attractive Coordinator, and even more affronted that he was given a lowly one sentence for praising purposes. Nevertheless, he edgily beckoned for his Roselia to follow, and the two strode off stage. Though excitement pervaded the air around him, Drew felt as if he had just taken a serious slap in the face.

It was almost an insult to him—no, it _was _an insult—to his Pokemon—to his bleeding hands after poking himself, much to the amusement of his Roselia—to—to—

"Didn't do so great, did we now, Drew?" May's high-pitched voice piped up from somewhere to the bottom-right of Drew. His double-lidded eyelids fluttered open, and he was suddenly aware of the fact that he had been pacing around for several seconds with his eyes shut as if he were meditating or struggling with some great internal conflict, which, to a certain extent, he was. Slightly disorientated, the green-haired Coordinator turned to survey the brown-haired girl, who was wearing a most uncharacteristically smug expression.

He then registered the subtle sarcasm that was present in May's words, smeared stealthily over her usually pure, untainted voice, an ugly blemish on a piece of untouched white printer paper. Drew didn't like it one bit. It didn't fit May—didn't fit her childish facial features, and the almost arrogant twinkle in her dark azure eyes was absolutely alien.

Could this be a result from spending too much time in Brendan's company? Drew had to admit that it was a possibility. Though the green-haired Coordinator hadn't stayed too long in the black-haired Trainer's presence—he feared for his own mortality at times, and was simply unable to standBrendan for reasons unbeknownst to both boys—Drew had exchanged enough words with him to perceive that Brendan was of the cynical nature. And he feared that the black-haired Trainer's sarcastic personality would contaminate May, but Drew couldn't quite fathom why he was spending precious seconds worrying for the girl anyway.

"Yoo-hoo Drew?" May said, leaping to her feet and, mockingly, waving her two gloved hands in front of the green-haired Coordinator, who immediately snapped out of his second stupor. "Skitty got _your _tongue now?"

Well, Drew certainly didn't expect her to know such an adage. He replaced the blank expression on his face with his usual smirk, and intensified the wry smile as May's smug façade wavered slightly. "I believe the cat's been far too busy yanking your own to preoccupy him-, her-, or itself with 'getting my tongue'."

May took a moment to decipher his words, and Drew almost breathed a sigh of relief that she was still her usual dense self. He drifted off into another reverie, content with watching the world from behind glazed eyes, brushing aside May's undoubtedly lame comeback, with an automatic smirk.

**Cherrygrove Contest Hall—11:30, September 6: Thursday**

"Wow, that guy was terrible, huh?" Maxson Maple commented, lowering his magazine from his round glasses so he could peer over the mop of black hair of the girl sitting in front of himself and gaze, across the multi-colored heads of the audience, at the stage, where one frightened-looking ten-year-old boy and his more terrified-looking Torchic were being bombarded by showers of ripe tomatoes.

Brendan, who had been viewing the disastrous performance to the right of Max, could only nod dryly in agreement. However, he seemed unable to refrain from adding in impulsively, "I can't believe that 'Fire Spin' actually backfired and singed off the heel of his left sneaker."

"Nor can I. . . wow, the Johto crowd really is kind of rough, huh?" Max remarked, cobalt eyes flickering over the jeering and booing crowd, as well as the softball-sized flecks of red being hurled about the place. He was sincerely glad that the first Contest Hall May performed in didn't harbor an equally rude audience, else she might have actually been hospitalized from being hit by too many vegetables, though tomatoes were technically a fruit. Well, Max could have sworn he had seen some carrots in the mix.

"Yeah," Brendan said. Max glanced at him, and noted that the black-haired Trainer was wearing a deeply disturbed expression. "Well. . . this region's much more modern than Kanto, Hoenn, or even Sinnoh. . . I guess that their crowds, or more correctly, mobs, are therefore naturally harder to please."

"Oh, hey, it's finally time for the dancing part," Max said after a silence of several moments. He intensified his gaze on the stage, noting that the girl—was her name Holly? Max had forgotten—who had received a tomato on her face was still allowed into this section of the Contest. . . well, he remembered reading from somewhere in the Contest Hall that thirty-three Coordinators and their various Pokemon were entered in that day's Contest, and since the dancing part used thirty-two of that thirty-three, it was very likely that the boy with the Torchic got kicked out instead.

The screen opposite the many rows of benches that the audience could seat themselves upon lit up with the rectangular headshots of the Coordinators who had managed to pass the clothing section. The first four of these digitized photographs were outlined in red, and just as Max read off their names, the four Coordinators appeared from the left of the stage, all looking somewhat nervous.

"All right! Now, I haven't introduced myself before, but I'm your Master of Ceremony, Trillion!" The MC shouted enthusiastically over her microphone, quieting the excited murmurs of the crowd. Max thought it was somewhat strange how Trillion was named Trillion, but he didn't comment upon it.

From somewhere above him, cheery, high-pitched pop music began blaring from the loudspeakers. Max winced slightly—he didn't know it was going to be this loud. Glancing at the black-haired boy seated next to him, Max noticed that Brendan was looking as if he were ready to criticize the choice of music, but decided against that particular choice of action in the end.

Trillion pushed Holly and her rather timid-looking Cyndaquil to the front of the stage. She gulped perceptibly—Max noticed there was still a tomato-colored stain on her blouse—and awkwardly directed her Cyndaquil to move forward.

The fire-typed Pokemon hastily stumbled to the very edge of the podium, hesitantly moving its rodent-like head from side to side, observing the waiting audience members. Max thought the Cyndaquil resembled an embarrassed child awaiting punishment, but then again, Holly looked equally abashed.

"P—P—Pyro!" The auburn-haired Coordinator finally choked out after ten seconds of nervous idling. "St—step forward!"

The Cyndaquil did so, albeit very hesitantly. Several seconds passed, and nobody did anything else—Max was beginning to wonder just what they were going to do, when, almost simultaneously, the three other Coordinators ordered their Pokemon to step forwards. Mutterings of approval rippled through the crowd, and Max decided that the other Coordinators must have been following some sort of pattern in the song; in fact, if the blue-haired boy forced himself to do so, he thought he could detect a certain beat to the song, though it was hard for him to listen to the music and watch the Pokemon perform at the same time. Max decided that the Coordinators and their Pokemon must have done prior training, and he began feeling nervous for May, who had not practiced dancing at all.

They continued in the same fashion—Holly hastily ordered her Cyndaquil around the 'dance floor' with somewhat sloppy orders, and the shrew-like Pokemon sloppily complying. After a minute elapsed, Trillion motioned for Holly to step back, and a boisterous brown-haired youth took her place, exuberantly—and, in Max's opinion, somewhat femininely—ordering an equally boisterous Totodile to do a series of complicated dance moves. The other Coordinator's Pokemon fumbled awkwardly through it, unprepared for the more difficult moves after Holly's rather bad performance.

Thus, the first round passed. To Max's surprise, though the other two Coordinator's Pokemon were pretty good in mimicking the spotlight-Pokemon's moves, their Trainers were ridiculously bad at thinking up original moves, and so the brown-haired male—Max remembered him as a certain 'JoJo'—and Holly scraped past.

Max watched as more people came onto the stage. They were differing in skill level, and obviously, the better Coordinators were accepted into the next part of the Contest. The blue-haired boy noted that some of the Coordinators who were kicked out of the Contest could have possibly made it to at least the first round of battling in a Contest in Hoenn or Kanto; evidently, Johto's Contests were up a notch. He secretly feared for his sister.

To Max's surprise, Harley, who Max had not noticed participated in the first part of the Contest—though this could be because of the fact that Max had buried his face in a magazine on grooming one's Pokemon that Brendan had purchased at the Pokemon Center—magically appeared in the second batch of Coordinators. The purple-haired Coordinator, much to Max's distaste, dominated the spotlight with his original and flamboyant moves for his Banette, who wore perpetually a creepy simper, not unlike his Coordinator's own. Though Max didn't think Harley's performance was exceptionally remarkable, the rest of the audience did, and even Brendan let slip a shocked expression for a split second.

Thankfully, however, May didn't mess up dancing. She was the second person to take the spotlight with her Squirtle, and though not the sharpest tack in the drawer, she was smart enough to grasp the general concept after half a minute. May's Squirtle, quite on the contrary to his Coordinator, took to dancing like a fish to water. Max wondered when the turtle-like Pokemon acquired such skills, and wondered if other Squirtle were equally good at dancing.

When the orange-haired MC announced that May and an eerily familiar black-haired girl were accepted into the Appeals section, the brown-haired girl gave a delighted yelp and happily walked offstage into the Coordinator's room. Next to Max, Brendan smiled. The other girl followed, and Max suddenly had the odd feeling that she was up to something, though he couldn't quite place his finger on the problem.

Drew, expectedly, soared through his dancing round, making the rest of the contestants in his round look like sleepy Munchlax in comparison. In fact, the three judges forgot to pass a second Coordinator as they were too absorbed in Drew's Absol's fluid dance moves, but they did when one of the Coordinators abruptly burst into tears when she was not accepted. Ironically enough, the judges did not pass her, which served only to heighten the volume of her wails. In the end, she was escorted off stage by two burly Machoke.

Finally, the last round's Coordinators finished their routine, and after two of the four were accepted into the Appeals section, Trillion bounced back into the spotlight and declared loudly, "Well folks, that's it for the dancing! Please stay seated for a few more minutes for the Coordinators to prepare themselves for their appeals!"

Max wondered what sort of preparation they would do.

**Cherrygrove Contest Hall—11:51, September 6: Thursday**

Mimi was a strange character.

If you met her on the street, taking your Growlithe, or perhaps Vulpix, out for a quick walk, she might jump you and proceed to send out one of her Pokemon to thoroughly soak your fire-typed Pokemon with a blast of pressurized water before sending out another Pokemon and quickly flying away. On the other hand, if you met her while you were taking your Skitty out for a walk, she might smile at you in such a way you wondered whether or not she had just won the lottery, and then proceed to drop a thousand Pokedollars into your lap.

Nevertheless, despite her eccentricities, the black-haired girl had never before questioned her motives or morals. Though her parents—or more correctly, mother, as she had never met her father—didn't do a particularly bad job in her upbringing, they must have overlooked something in her development. She had never stopped to ask herself 'Is this right?', as she simply did not care for whomever may be affected by her actions, or even worse, she actually wished harm to the victim of her plans; and Mimi certainly was not about to stop not.

Hunched over a couple of wires in the Coordinator's locker room's water closet, she examined the circuits and, after several moments of decisive pondering, deftly severed two red wires with a pair of pliers she kept in her scarlet backpack. Her green-yellow eyes glistened with concentration as she continued severing select few of the wires.

Irritably, she rolled up the sleeves of her black waistcoat when they got in the way of her work. Someone was banging on the lavatory door, but she ignored him or her. They would just have to wait for Mimi to finish her job.

**Cherrygrove Contest Hall—12:09, September 6: Thursday**

Brendan Ruby Birch, situated comfortably in his chair, wondered when the Coordinators would be let out for lunch. Though he felt guilty about letting his mind wander away from the rather boring appeal some Coordinator was struggling to give with his or her Pokemon, Brendan had to think about his stomach as well. Glancing at his red Poketch, he did some quick calculations and decided that the Contest would end around one or two o'clock, which would allow for a belated lunch.

He looked back at the stage. The brown-haired JoJo was sending out a star-shaped Pokemon, which, after solidifying, turned out to be a Staryu. The water-typed Pokemon looked relatively healthy, and Brendan felt his concentration sharpen itself. JoJo shouted an order that was inaudible to Brendan over the roar of the crowd, but he was able to guess what JoJo had commanded from the vortex of white-blue water that was exploding out of one of the golden Pokemon's corners.

The flecks of water caught the light and glistened silver. The audience cheered, and JoJo beamed brightly before ordering something else, looking somewhat authoritarian with his wild gesticulation. At hearing its master's words, the Staryu seized its water-typed skyward attack, and as the water began to fall, the Star-shape Pokemon spiraled upwards in a near-perfect execution of a 'Rapid Spin', slowing down the descent of the mass of water with the air created from the spinning.

The air created from the 'Rapid Spin' attack also succeeded in vaporizing the water, so when the Staryu finally touched down, the water around it had evaporated into mist. JoJo beamed again and his Staryu nodded politely in the direction of the applauding audience. Brendan heard the judges speak for the first time.

"Remarkable!" The round-faced Mr. Sukizo exclaimed.

"Very smart combination of 'Water Pulse' and 'Rapid Spin'. Your Pokemon demonstrated exemplary control of its techniques, though you could probably work on originality," Mr. Contesta said kindly. JoJo nodded humbly, though looked as if he would like to retort. The Staryu hummed ambivalently.

"Your Pokemon looks very healthy," Nurse Joy complimented.

The judges' scores appeared on the giant computer screen above, which displayed a total score of 26.5—9.5 from Mr. Sukizo, 8 from Mr. Contesta, and 9 from Nurse Joy. Everyone looked, and nobody noticed the small gray figure that hurled across the stage.

"Good job! And now, time for the next contestant, Harley Davidson!" MC Trillion shouted as JoJo returned his Staryu and shuffled offstage. Harley waltzed onto the stage, his purple hair rendered a girly shade of pink under the glare of the spotlight. Brendan recognized him after a few moments during which Harley blew kisses at the crowd as the purple-haired gender-confused Coordinator May had described in such detail to him. The black-haired Trainer's stomach rumbled with both hunger and new uncertainty.

"Hi everyone!" Harley shouted, wearing a creepy grin. Without a further word, he plucked a Pokeball off of the maroon belt strapped around his waist and flung it into the air. The rounded figure of a monstrous arachnid appeared, and as the red light cleared from the release of the Pokemon, Brendan immediately identified it as a two-year-old Ariados. The distinct red-and-black striped coat of the large spider was exceptionally glossy, and Brendan found himself wondering what type of shampoo Harley used to wash his Pokemon's fur.

The Long Leg Pokemon hissed menacingly for extra effect. Several members of the audience shrieked in delight at the Ariados's dark demeanor.

"Aww, you look so cute when you hiss like that!" Harley squealed. Brendan began questioning the purple-haired Coordinator's sanity. "Okies, how bout we try a 'Scary Face'?"

The very air seemed to blacken as the Ariados's eyes began glowing a vivid vermillion. The hairs on Brendan's neck nearly stood on end as the spider-like Pokemon swept its orange gaze across the audience, and he found himself paralyzed, frozen to the spot. From a very distant part of his brain, Brendan recalled that 'Scary Face' greatly reduced the speed of the recipient of the attack. He remembered typing an essay when he was nine on the very move as one of the frequent tasks his father assigned him.

"Great job, Ariados!" Harley said, as if from far away. "Now, 'String Shot' yourself to the ceiling!"

Complying, the Long Leg Pokemon slowly tipped his head backwards, stretching out the 'Scary Face' attack for as long as possible, and fired a thick string of silky thread at the ceiling, which easily stuck. Brendan felt blood slowly flow back into his numb fingers when the Ariados relinquished his hold on the speed-reducing attack. To his left, he heard Max shudder audibly.

"Awesome, Ariados! Now use 'String Shot' again!"

Grunting, the spider-like Pokemon shuffled across the ceiling, spitting strands of white silk down at the ground at seemingly random intervals. Brendan looked at the ground and noticed that the Ariados was forming a picture on the ground. Squinting, the black-haired Trainer made out the form of a skull before the Ariados landed in the center of his masterpiece with a dull 'plunk.'

"Remarkable!"—Mr. Sukizo, 10.

"Stunning, with an unique macabre touch. I applaud you, Mr. Davidson."—Mr. Contesta, 9.

"Your Ariados's coat is so shiny! Sadly, though, all its shininess distracted me from the actual appeal."—Nurse Joy, 7.

"This guy's not too bad," Brendan muttered under his breath as Harley bowed, dark green eyes practically glittering with delight as he flopped off the stage.

Several more Coordinators came onstage, though none were quite memorable enough to leave a lasting impression in Brendan's mind. He found his train of thought veering off in the direction of his brunette companion, and how happy she seemed when she managed to pass the dancing round. His heart swelled with affection as he recalled the radiance of her smiling face, and his attention quickly snapped back to the stage when May herself bounced onto the stage.

Waving at the cheering audience, the girl flung out the short, tottering figure of her Munchlax. The normal-typed Pokemon looked rather oblivious to the roar of the crowd, fatuous as ever. May, on the other hand, looked as if she was ready to burst with excitement, and her energy was contagious, though not to the immune Munchlax.

"Okay now, Munchlax!" She declared happily, twirling around on the spot. Brendan could not help but feel his heart swell with affection at her childish actions. "Let's try a 'Metronome!'"

The plump blue-yellow Pokemon gave no immediate reaction to her words, but after a few moments, he began swaying to his left and right, waving his stubby arms accordingly in the air. The Munchlax's clawed hands began glowing white, and in due time, a basket-ball sized sphere of light had gathered at the tips of his sharp nails. A few more seconds elapsed, and suddenly, a giant barrel of scarlet flames rocketed out of the light-ball.

The randomized 'Flamethrower' attack stopped right before hitting the ceiling, and the Munchlax was able to direct the fire-typed move so that it fanned out in an enormous crimson flower. The audience ooh-ed and aah-ed, and Brendan found himself close to wolf-whistling, though he regained his dignity in time and stopped himself. May looked absolutely brilliant, she was grinning so widely.

"And now, 'Solarbeam!'" May ordered extravagantly, her voice rising with exhilaration. The Munchlax continued to maintain the 'Flamethrower', and at the same time he began gathering the required energy to launch the grass-typed attack. Brendan could not help but feel impressed at the small Pokemon's control over maintaining his first move while preparing to another one.

A hush fell over the audience as everyone watched, enraptured, as the Munchlax persisted in his difficult endeavor. The 'Flamethrower' attack was slowly dwindling away, and Brendan began fearing that May's Munchlax would not be able to meet his Coordinator's standards, and yet the 'Solarbeam' still looked many seconds away from completion.

"You can do it, Munchlax!" May said encouragingly. Though Brendan's eyesight was poor, he could tell that the Coordinator's face was shining with sweat, though if this were from sheer focus or the heat caused by the fire attack, he did not know, but Brendan liked to think that it was the former. Upon hearing his Coordinator's reassuring words, the Munchlax seemed to emanate renewed energy and shut his ovular eyes in tight concentration.

Amazingly, several moments later, the Munchlax let out a blinding streak of lemon-yellow from his mouth. The beam of solar energy rapidly entwined itself around the already-present fiery cylinder, binding itself against the 'Flamethrower' and strengthening it.

The audience promptly erupted in an equally monumental round of applause as the two combined attacks slowly faded into the air. May, smiling with pleasure, returned the Munchlax, and turned towards the three judges to await her praise and criticisms. Brendan felt his heart flutter as May, in pivoting on the spot, found his face among the other hundreds and winked surreptitiously at him—and if May was anything, stealthy would not be the best adjective to describe her. He felt special.

"Remarkable!"—Mr. Suziko, 10.

"A literally brilliant combination of moves. The fact that your Munchlax managed to sustain the 'Flamethrower' and generate a 'Solarbeam' is absolutely incredible, though it was a little unstable in doing so."—Mr. Contesta, 9.

"Great job! Your Munchlax looks a little overweight, though. Might I suggest limiting intake of Pokeblocks to one or two per day?"—Nurse Joy, 8.5

May nodded politely as she took in all three judges' words. Brendan was glad to see that she had retained a level of humiliation in her actions—he would hate to think that her sweet nature had evolved into a beastly one, which, oddly enough, was very common among girls of her age. (1) He was slightly disappointed when she left the stage, replaced by some other Coordinator.

Brendan watched the rest of the appeals with much less interest, though he groaned along with the rest of the audience when an inexperienced Coordinator's Bulbasaur accidentally nearly strangled an audience member near the front with a badly-controlled 'Vine Whip.'

After several more Coordinators came and left, Brendan noticed that the next one up was Drew. The pit of Brendan's stomach flared with fury, and he began angrily shifting around in his backpack, extracting his special sewing glasses and flinging it onto his nose bridge with an irritable thrust to better observe Drew's appeal. (Brendan preferred to call his actions 'market research'.) He valiantly ignored the several turned heads in his direction, all of which were staring directly at his burgundy-rimmed glasses.

Drew flicked his frontal bangs, compelling a large number of girls—and strangely enough, a small amount of boys—to shriek in absolute glee. Brendan had the weirdest feeling that they would not have been here if the 'famous Andrew Rosalind' weren't there.

The green-haired Coordinator, shifting his weight on his right leg, suavely flung out his Roselia again, who was no longer wearing her tutu—Brendan was glad, for it was obvious (to Brendan, at least) that Drew had done a poor job of stitching. The Rose Pokemon bowed deeply, and proceeded to execute a series of highly, well, _glittery _was the only word to describe it. Brendan really thought that Drew should be called the glitter-Coordinator, as everywhere the black-haired Trainer looked, there was glitter. And more glitter.

Despite Brendan's growing dislike of Drew's glittery 'style'—and his character in general, really; how could May tolerate having such an ass for a rival?—the rest of the audience seemed to like his Roselia's glittery moves: glittery 'Petal Dance', glittery 'Solarbeam', and even glitterier 'Stun Spore.' Even stranger, the judges also seemed to really like his appeal. Brendan thought this a conspiracy, though he kept this thought to himself. He was already sacrificing some masculine dignity with his donning of his old glasses—well, burgundy had been the fashion then! (for girls, at least, Brendan reminded himself.)

"Simply remarkable!"—Mr. Sukizo, 10.

"Absolutely wonderful; I loved your wonderful use of glitter,"—_what?! _Thought Brendan—"and your Roselia has a very healthy sheen to her."—Mr. Contesta, 9.5

"Like Mr. Contesta said, your Roselia really is very healthy-looking! Great job on raising her, and her shiny glitter moves are simply superb!"—Nurse Joy, 9.5

_Seriously, how many words can they use to praise 'glitter' with? _(2)Brendan thought to himself sulkily, removing his glasses and stuffing them back in his glasses case. He felt his spirits elevate when he saw the back of Drew reentering the Coordinators' locker room door.

**Cherrygrove Contest Hall—13:30, September 6: Thursday**

May felt her heart leap to her throat when her photo appeared on the computer screen inside the locker room. The other Coordinators crowded around her accordingly shouted happily when they saw their own photos, and when all eight had appeared on the screen, the ones whose photos had not shown up on the display groaned in disappointment.

Scanning the two rows of photos, May noticed that Drew, Harley, JoJo, and, surprisingly, Holly were all accepted into the next round. She looked around herself, and found that the crowd of Coordinators had lessened considerably as three-quarters of them trudged out the back door. Drew was examining his fingernails, Harley was probably in the occupied lavatory—not that May was complaining or anything—as he was nowhere to be seen around the locker room, JoJo was rubbing his Pokemon's egg for good luck, and Holly simply stood there, staring at the screen as if she could not believe her eyes.

Deciding that Drew probably would not answer her if she asked him a question—he was too 'high' for things like talking to 'lower' Coordinators such as May—she settled on talking with Holly, who was nervously tugging on a strand of terra-cotta hair.

"Hi! Holly, right?" May began cheerily, using her toothpaste-commercial smile and amusement-park commercial voice. The small girl, who May noticed disgruntling was not much shorter than herself, turned to slowly face the brown-haired Coordinator.

"Yeah," Holly mumbled, nearly inaudibly. Apprehensively, she rubbed the back of her neck. "I'm Holly. . . you're May, right?"

"Yes," May said, a bit taken-aback that the young girl was paying close enough attention to her that she noticed May's name. "Well. . . I'm glad that you managed to get into the next round! Maybe we'll battle each other."

May had intended her words to increase the girl's confidence, but they seemed merely to amplify her misery. Dejectedly, Holly turned to May, and as if confessing some heinous deed she had committed, the auburn-haired girl told her in a hushed, low voice, "I—I've never won a battle before. . ."

May didn't quite know what to say to that. And since most things May said when she didn't quite know what to say usually worsened matters, she wisely kept her mouth shut.

"I mean," The girl went on, a dull glazed look appearing in her gray-green eyes, "I've always thought they would be easy, but, well, they're not. . ." She sighed with a crestfallenness May had never before seen in a girl of her age.

"Well," May started, stopping short as she fished about for the correct words, "When I first started out, all I did was lose battles, too. But, I guess after a while, you sort of get the hang of it. I mean, look at your Cyndaquil—it looks, ah. . ." May trailed off after gesturing towards the vegetating shrew-like Pokemon, who honestly did not look extremely praise-worthy, ". . . relaxed?"

Holly eyed May as if questioning her intelligence. May began feeling very bad about starting the whole conversation, and she wished that she hadn't ever thought of talking to the girl in the first place. She was saved, however, by the computer screen suddenly beginning to shuffle the photographs.

Curiously, May turned to watch the display screen. She noticed with a painful sort of wince that she was paired in the first round with Holly. Drew, on the other hand, was paired with JoJo. Harley was paired with some other Coordinator.

JoJo seemed to take the hit surprisingly well. With a somewhat cheeky grin, he said, "And now let the games begin."

**x**

Unfortunately, May's match against Holly was not really a match. The girl had very little self-confidence to start out with, and when May's Squirtle had landed a lucky 'Bubble' attack on her Phanpy's long snout, she looked almost on the verge of tears.

May seriously considered forfeiting the match—she really didn't want the girl to erupt in wailing because of her. The brown-haired Coordinator stopped herself, though; first off, Brendan would never forgive her—secondly, Harley would never let her hear the end of it—and thirdly, Drew would find that as an excuse to further demolish May's own self-confidence.

Settling for encouragement, May piped up, "C'mon Holly, I'm sure you and your Phanpy, er—what's his name again?"

"Rhua," Holly answered miserably, "And she's a girl."

"Oh," said May, forgetting what she had set off to do in the first place. Her impatient Squirtle, unable to stand the suspense any longer, had pounced on the ground-typed Pokemon with a well-aimed 'Withdraw/Rapid Spin' combination attack. The Phanpy let out a squeal of pain and toppled backwards, and when she at last pushed herself back onto her stump-like feet, there was a nasty dark-red bruise across the rectangular red hump on Rhua's nose.

May began to apologize, then stopped herself, remembering that, well, a battle is a battle, and no matter how much she may pity the poor girl and her even poorer Pokemon, she shouldn't force herself to verbally advocate this. She remembered how insulted she felt herself when someone else pitied her and her Pokemon—surely Holly couldn't be much different?

"F—finish her off," May stuttered, looking away as she didn't want to witness the event. Unfortunately, she could not block her ears, and the ominous sort of thump that reverberated through the auditorium signaled the Phanpy being knocked out. Her Squirtle gave a happy squeal, but May couldn't quite rejoice.

Forcing herself to look, May turned around again and saw Holly kneeling on her knees, tears streaming steadily from her large eyes. May wanted to say something—anything—to comfort her, but the roar of the audience would have drowned out anything May said, anyway. She glanced at the display, and noted that, while she had full points, Holly's circular point-bar had completely emptied. Three 'X's appeared on the judge's panels, and Holly, miserably returning her Phanpy, marched offstage.

May followed the small figure of the girl, and felt increasingly nauseous. She rounded the doorway back into the locker room just in time to see Holly stuffing her two Pokeballs in her bag. Feeling like she should do something, May walked up to the girl just as Holly was about to slip through the doorway leading outside.

"Hey, Holly," May said. The auburn-haired girl turned to look at May, and the brown-haired Coordinator noticed unsettlingly that her face was overrun with tear stains. "Um. . . I'm sure you'll be a, uh, a great Coordinator when you grow up and if you keep training."

Holly looked at her feet, not saying anything. She simply stood in the doorway. May thought she heard the next two Coordinators—one of them including Drew—exit the locker room and onto the stage, but she couldn't quite care. A minute trickled past, and May wondered if Holly was going to say anything at all.

"I'm—I'm just not good enough," She murmured after a while.

"No, you just don't have any self-confidence!" May said, slightly exasperated. "If you just believed in yourself, I'm sure you can be really—"

"Don't say it!" Holly interjected, looking positively aghast. "I'm not good—I never will be! I have no idea how I managed to scrape into the battles!"

May was trying to think of something to counter this when a shadow passed over her. Confused, May turned around, only to see Drew looming above her. Her breath caught in her throat. Did he finish the battle already. . . wait, didn't he battle against JoJo? Sure enough, May could see the lone figure of the tall brown-blonde Coordinator some yards behind Drew, but was distracted by the green-haired Coordinator's biting words.

"That's right, little girl," Drew started in a deadly quiet voice, brushing past May as if she were an insignificant bug. Holly trembled visibly as Drew stared down at her. "You are absolutely terrible at battling and appealing, and you do not deserve your Pokemon's dedication." May almost gasped aloud at Drew's cruel words, but somehow she was able to stay quiet. Fat tears rolled down Holly's face, and Drew bore an almost indifferent expression, as if he were wasting his time with pointing out Holly's pitiful existence. "If you know what's good for you and everyone else around you, you should quit Coordinating and go into some profession where talent is not required."

Saying those words, Drew turned his back on Holly, flashing May a condescending glance as he passed, as if saying that his words applied to her as well. May, meanwhile, was at an absolute loss for words; she simply stared at Holly, who was determinedly not meeting May's eyes.

"Look, Drew's just—" May began, but before she could finish her sentence, Holly was gone in a whirlwind of salty tears. Flaring with anger, May whipped around and located for Drew, intending to deplore him for insulting Holly so heartlessly, but before she could even say anything, Drew had spoken.

"Shut up, May."

"Wha—_What?!_"

"I said, _shut up._" Drew repeated irritably.

"B—b—I didn't say anything!" May retorted, miffed.

"You were going to," Drew said, looking away from her undignified face. May didn't have a rebuttal for that—he was right, but she was angry that he had told her so briskly for her to stay silent. "And if I were you, I would be more worried about 'my' upcoming match against Harley."

"Huh?" May asked, befuddled. She turned to look at the display screen, and saw that she was paired with Harley for her next round. Drew was paired with a black-haired female Coordinator. May noticed that if she won this round, she would be in the finals. Before she could comment on this, however, the loudspeakers had called out for her to report to the stage.

Gathering her courage, May discarded all thoughts of Holly and Drew's cold words. She walked out the door, and saw that Harley was already outside, giggling almost manically. His Banette was bobbing up and down in mid-air in front of his Coordinator. May was a bit suspicious that Harley might be up to something else, but she shrugged her uncertainties away and flung out her Munchlax.

"All right!" Trillion declared. "Let's get started! Squirtle versus Banette!"  
At her words, the audience began raucous applaud. May, fiddling with the hems of her red blouse, called out to her Munchlax, "Start things off with a 'Metronome'!"

The normal-typed Pokemon began swaying on the spot. Harley, not about to allow the Munchlax to make his move, commanded, "Banette, 'Thunder' that Munchlax!"

A jagged shard of electricity exploded out of thin air and hit the Munchlax before May could bark 'dodge'. The Big Eater Pokemon, dazzled, wobbled around on the spot and landed on the ground. Smoke rose from the round body of the Munchlax, and May could see quite well that his short fur was frayed from the electric-typed attack.

"Munchlax!" May cried out in alarm, dropping on her knees. "Are you all right?"

The Munchlax nodded slowly and pushed himself to his feet. Above May, her points bar had lessened by a fourth, and she winced just looking at it.

"Good one, Banette!" Harley shouted happily, doing a ridiculously juvenile-looking victory dance, while the ghost Pokemon cackled contentedly. May felt her face flush in embarrassment. "Hit it with another 'Thunder'!"

"N-not so fast! Munchlax, try to dodge it!"

But May had called out too late. The 'Thunder' attack hit her Munchlax for the second time, and he once again landed on the floor, dazzled but not yet unconsciously. Time was passing by, and so were May's points.

"Munchlax!" May cried out again. The Pokemon responded by grunting and reluctantly pulling himself to his feet again. The Munchlax's blue and yellow hair had been severely blackened by both 'Thunder' attacks, and May had no intention of letting her Munchlax suffer for the second time. "'Tackle' it!"

The Munchlax lunged at the Banette, and though the attack had hit the ghost, it had absolutely no effect on it. May suddenly remembered that ghost types, such as Banette, were unaffected by normal and fighting type attacks, and instantly regretted her decision. What was worse, Munchlax was now very close to the Banette, and would not be able to dodge an attack even if he tried.

"Haha! Bad choice, May!" Harley yelled happily, "Banette, fry that thing with a 'Will-O-Wisp!"

Simpering evilly, the Banette waved his gray hands and blue flames materialized around the uncertain Munchlax, wrapping around the normal-typed Pokemon. Oddly, however, the attack didn't seem to hurt Munchlax very much; May suddenly recalled that her Pokemon had an ability called 'Thick Fat', which mitigated the damage caused by fire and ice type attacks. Banette's 'Will-O-Wisp' was actually a blessing in disguise!

"Munchlax! 'Solar Beam'!" May declared. Her Pokemon cried out "Munch!" in reply and began gathering energy from the very flame attacks that were supposed to burn him. Harley, undoubtedly assuming that he could order his Banette to dodge in time, didn't immediately yell an order, which was his mistake.

Mere seconds after May had ordered the attack, Munchlax had fired the wide ray of light at the Banette, and before Harley could yell for the ghost Pokemon to dodge, the grass-typed move had already hit. May squinted to prevent from being temporarily blinded by the 'Solar Beam'. As the attack faded, the Banette dropped from the air and onto the floor, twitching feebly. Consequentially, the ghost released his grasp on the 'Will-O-Wisp', and the flames surrounding Munchlax vanished.

"Yay! Great job, Munchlax!" May said cheerily. She glanced up at the screen again, and noted merrily that Harley's points had been cut in half. The two Coordinators were now of the same standing. Harley, meanwhile, had taken to the task of shrieking anguishly over his Pokemon's near-immobile body.

"BANETTE!" Harley shrieked. The ghost Pokemon wearily floated back up. Harley's face purpled to a shade identical to that of his own hair, and he turned, shaking with pure rage, to face May. "You little—! You'll pay for this!"

And as if his words were a signal, the lights died, and the Contest Hall was plunged into blackness.

**Author's Notes:**

(1) -cough-thismeansyoumisty-cough-  
(2) Seriously. Drew uses too much glitter. ITS UNORIGINAL OKAY GRASS ASS LULZ. Now who agrees wiff me?! (But I like Drew.)

I apologize for the very unsatisfactory battle. . . the chapter just turned out to be far too longer for any extremely 'epic' matches. . . I am very sorry if you are disappointed, and I promise that I'll strive to do better in the future, and better allot the word numbers to each section of the Contest. Well, actually, now I officially hate writing battles and appeals, so there you have it.

I'm so sorry that I have to leave a cliffhanger, but I didn't want you to feel too 'bloated' if I had finished this Contest all in one go. And I know this chapter probably is not very good, but it's the best I can churn out right now. I also know that this chapter really should have been the last of the Cherrygrove Contest, but. . . you all know me and my tendency to. . . rant on and on about. . . crap. . .

Thank you very much if you have made it this far. Now. . . review, please?

**Next Chapter Excerpt:**

""Hmph! No need to get so high and mighty, Mr. Rosalind," May snapped back, planting her hands on her wide hips, speaking in the same mocking tone that Drew had heard her use not three hours ago, "I was only trying to help."

Drew frowned slightly at her attitude, but disguised his initial expression with a half-formed smirk that easily surpassed May's low standards. He decided it was best not to reply, and sank into a stupor, running his thoughts over some things. Cold blood rushed through his veins as he suddenly realized that his next match—and the final one—was against May. Glancing obliquely at the girl, he noticed that she, too, seemed to be mulling over the same thought, as she bore an uncharacteristically sullen expression.

Unable to restrain himself, Drew asked, **. . ."**


	7. Cherrygrove Contest Part III

**The Johto Odyssey****  
**a Pokemon Fanfic by Galbinus

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Pokemon. . . no, really. What did you expect?  
**Dedication: **Aqua059, for her very supportive reviews and lovely OC  
**Chapter Rating: **K+, perhaps T for light swearing  
**OC's in use: **Lyokoluva's_ JoJo Dodgson_

Thank you, again, for the wonderful reviews.

Nothing much to say before this chapter commences, except for _yes_, the blasted Contest finishes. . . unfortunately, it takes up the entire chapter to do so. By the way, if you haven't already, please spare a vote in my profile poll. I really want to see everyone's opinion. (The poll will end next Friday.) In any case, have a hopefully lovely reading experience, and if it doesn't trouble you, drop a review as well.

**Chapter Seven: Cherrygrove Contest Part III**

**Cherrygrove Contest Hall—14:02, September 6: Thursday**

As the lights suddenly blinked and shut off, the audience gave startled cries of confusion. Harley Davidson, however, was smiling contentedly, rolling up his green sleeves with vigor and reminding himself to compliment Mimi on her apt timing.

"Munch!" May's Munchlax cried, his squawky voice rising with panic. May, however, seemed to be too shocked by the turn of events to say anything; Harley liked to imagine that she was frozen to the spot, her usually expressional face immobile with disbelief. He had to congratulate himself—the plan was going along remarkably well. Perhaps the weird black-haired girl hadn't been lying about her peculiar abilities.

Shrugging the thought away, Harley motioned for his Banette to come closer. The ghost-typed Pokemon, who did not distinguish from the day or night as he could see equally well in both, floated over to bob up and down beside his Coordinator.

Harley whispered his plans to his Banette—stealthy for once—as he really didn't want anyone to hear, which would defeat the entire purpose of being stealthy. After a few seconds, in which the Munchlax's startled cries still did not cease and May still did not say anything, the Banette gave a curt nod and promptly camouflage himself in with his dark surroundings, which was not an altogether difficult task.

May, who had evidently been startled out of her reverie, hurriedly ordered, "Munchlax, use 'Metronome!'" in an obvious attempt to restore the light in some form or another. Sure enough, the familiar ball of white light began to appear at the tips of the small Pokemon's sharp but tiny claws, yet it failed to illuminate anything outside of a two-foot radius.

"Now, Banette! 'Thunder' the ugly thing!" Harley shrieked eagerly.

Complying only too readily, the Banette threw a jagged stripe of yellow at the Munchlax, hitting it dead-on and causing the unfortunate Pokemon to literally fly backwards. The brief, intense flash from the 'Thunder' attack caused a slice of the light to fall onto May's face, exposing her horrified expression for a split second before it faded away.

The familiar 'beep-beep-beep' sound of points—undoubtedly May's—dropping rapidly sounded like the purest music to Harley's ears.

"Haha! Take that, you little twerp!" Harley shouted victoriously. He heard a dull thump as May slumped onto the floor, perceivably out of shock or self-pity. Well, it served that little skunk right; that's what she got for insulting his cookies! NOBODY insulted his cookies. NOBODY. "Banette, try to 'Thunder' it again!"

Unfortunately for Harley, however, Munchlax's 'Metronome' had finally gotten through. An enormous sphere of light exploded from the Big Eater Pokemon's raised stubby little hands, enveloping the entire stage within a matter of seconds. Harley shielded his eyes with his hands, letting out a stream of insults underneath his breath. A few seconds later, he dared himself to open his eyes. Unfortunately again, he had opened them too late.

A beam of blinding yellow light sliced through the air towards the unsuspecting Banette; before the ghost-typed Pokemon could react, the 'SolarBeam' attack had hit him, full-on. A silent shriek exited Harley's throat as he watched, helplessly, as his Banette crumpled to the floor, his limp gray figure lifeless, unmoving. Collapsing on his knees, the purple-haired Coordinator reached out to tentatively alight his fingers on the Banette's body, only to cringe at its unexpected coldness.

Simultaneously, three large red 'X's appeared on the judges' digital panels. Glancing up from his Banette's body, Harley noticed with a nasty squirm of his stomach that May, having returned her Munchlax, was waving at the crowd, a positively blissful expression on her face.

His insides flared up with anger. Shaking with rage, Harley pushed himself to his feet and edgily returned his Banette. Had he bothered to glance at the hand-held pink mirror he carried around constantly, he would have noticed that his skin had purpled to the exact same shade as his wisteria hair.

Shrieking in anguish, Harley stormed off of the stage, and that was all anyone saw him for a while.

**Cherrygrove Contest Hall—14:23, September 6: Thursday**

Andrew Rosalind sauntered back inside the locker room after his third easy victory against some insignificant girl.

He half-smirked half-frowned to himself as the Coordinator, wearing an oddly apathetic expression on her angular face, entered the locker room noiselessly and seemed to float right out into the reception room, disappearing in a whirl of long black hair. Drew wondered how someone who had just suffered such a crushing defeat could level such a cool look, and wondered if she were crazy. Judging by the way that she (almost carelessly, it appeared, though she had articulated her words with a ringing finality) had ordered her Metang so casually and wantonly in battle, Drew reckoned that wasn't an altogether dismissible possibility.

Brushing the thought away, Drew maneuvered his way through the near-empty room, noting idly that the next round was the last. He wondered who he would be facing, only to have his questions answered by the appearance of a certain brown-haired girl from behind the lavatory door.

Plastering on his largest smirk, Drew sauntered in front of May, critically flashing his chartreuse gaze over her rumpled outfit. Her bandana—lopsided. Blouse—wrinkled and unironed. Eyes—sapphire and beautiful as usual.

Immediately after thinking the last thought, Drew blinked and turned away, forcing himself not to look at May. Embarrassed by his own thoughts, the green-haired Coordinator haughtily stalked away, feeling May's confused gaze bore into his back. He couldn't stop—however much he wanted to—the footsteps that shuffled in his direction.

"Drew? What's wrong?" May asked, laying a gloved hand on his shoulder. Flinching at the contact, the green-haired Coordinator struggled to regain his composure, which was not too hard, and forced himself to meet the eyes he had vowed flimsily just a few seconds ago never to look at.

"Nothing of your concern," He replied slickly. The words rolled off his tongue—smooth, fluid. May flushed with anger, miffed that he so easily rejected her offer to help him, heat rising to her face and thoroughly pinking her lightly-tanned skin. For a moment, Drew regretted his harsh words—it was as if he had no control over them, and though he hated to admit it, he really did not like seeing May—or anyone, for that matter, but especially May—getting hurt. However, his remorse was short-lived.

"Hmph! No need to get so high and mighty, Mr. Rosalind," May snapped back, planting her hands on her wide hips, speaking in the same mocking tone that Drew had heard her use not three hours ago, "I was only trying to help."

Drew frowned slightly at her attitude, but disguised his initial expression with a half-formed smirk that easily surpassed May's low standards. He decided it was best not to reply, and sank into a stupor, running his thoughts over some things. Cold blood rushed through his veins as he suddenly realized that his next match—and the final one—was against May. Glancing obliquely at the girl, he noticed that she, too, seemed to be mulling over the same thought, as she bore an uncharacteristically sullen expression.

Unable to restrain himself, Drew asked, "Scared, May? That you're facing off against me? You won't stand a chance."

As if a spark had been ignited, May scowled and turned to huffily face Drew. "Excuse _me_?! But I do recall that I beat you at that last most humiliating match in the Grand Festival!"

"Do you really?" Drew said, trying to keep the patronizing tone out of his voice but failing magnificently. "_I _seem to recall that the only reason you managed to beat me was solely because of her abundant luck and the fact that time was on your side. If the match had continued on for another half a minute, my Absol would have flattened your Combusken—who's a Blaziken now, right? About time it evolved."

May, appearing a bit taken aback by Drew's stinging words, stumbled backwards and was silent, her face a mask of surprise, for a few moments. Her petulant cerulean eyes seemed to glow with belligerence mere seconds later. Luckily, Drew was spared the undesirable fate of being yelled at by an angry girl when the loudspeakers boomed, "May Andrew Rosalind and May Maple please report to the stage."

Drew lazily stretched, and, making sure to walk right in front of May—which, considering his predicament, may not have been the brightest idea, but he didn't really care—pushed his way through the door and onto the stage. The familiar roar of the crowd gushed into his ears, heightening his hearing while the dim lighting, the lights having been restored by several electricians from the audience, lowered his eyesight. He heard May pad over to her side of the battle field, but his current preoccupation was flipping his hair at the audience, compelling many shrieks from female spectators.

With an extravagant flourish almost worthy of Harley's, Drew flipped out his Roselia, who had been preparing herself for entrance and emerged in a vibrant shower of pink petals. And, of course, the necessary amounts of glitter.

"I'll beat you Drew, you just watch, you!" Drew heard May cry out in anger. He didn't really care, though; her threats were usually as empty as air. However, as the match's start was imminent, the green-haired Coordinator turned to face May.

A bright flash of red light later, May's Blaziken had appeared on the stage, cawing menacingly and bristling his creamy-colored feathers. Drew thought that the warlike Blaze Pokemon oddly resembled May, but he (wisely) didn't voice this observation. His Roselia didn't seem intimidated by the fire-type's evolution, however; rather, she looked as if she favored the rise I

A bell, somewhere above them on the high ceiling, rung. That being the signal, Drew immediately shouted, "Roselia, attack with 'Petal Dance'!"

The Roselia pruned noisily and began spinning about on the spot. Soon, she was a mere vortex of blurred pink-and-green. Cerise petals flew out at deadly speeds towards the Blaziken, the sides of each flower part smothered in a sleep-inducing powder, which was a special technique of the Pokemon's.

May, who had evidently been preparing for Roselia's attack, yelled hurriedly, "Blaziken! Dodge it quickly, and then 'Blaze Kick' it!"

Swiftly, the Blaze Pokemon leapt to one side, easily avoiding the first 'batch' of petals but forced to do a ridiculous ballerina-like twirl to avoid the second 'batch' of petals and forced to do an even more ludicrous cartwheel to avoid the third, and last, 'batch' of petals. Drew sniggered at the site, forgetting May's words for a few crucial moments.

With much vigor, the Blaziken allowed his right leg to erupt in scarlet flames and, before anyone could react, slammed into the Roselia, causing the slight Pokemon to catapult off in the opposite direction. Smashing into a wall, the Rose Pokemon feebly slid down to the floor, twitching restlessly where she lay.

Drew's heart lurched to his throat, and his emerald eyes widened his horror. Immediately realizing how idiotic he must have looked, he made himself appear uncaring, which hurt both his Pokemon and himself. Without any encouragement from her Coordinator whatsoever, the Roselia struggled to push herself to her feet, tottering about wildly even after she succeeded in her efforts.

The brown-haired Coordinator looked, for half a second, regretful of her orders; then, almost as quickly as it had come, her doubtful look was erased and replaced by a feverent one. "All right! Time to finish off this Roselia!" May said enthusiastically. Drew half-heartedly glanced towards the scoreboard, sadly noting that his points had been cut down by a harmful third, while May's remained decidedly full. "Another 'Blaze Kick' to knock it out!"

Cawing eagerly, the Blaziken rushed towards the Roselia. Drew, however, had been prepared this time. "Dodge it, quickly!"

With speed unlike the rest of her type, the grass-typed Pokemon darted sideways, narrowly avoiding the powerful attack. The Blaziken chirped in indignity at his missed attack, and quickly pivoted about on the spot to charge up for another one. Roselia, however, had been calculating her actions, and blasted the fire-type with a well-aimed 'Magical Leaf' attack.

The glowing leaves hit Blaziken full-on, scraping his coat of glossy feathers and forcing him to land. Cawing angrily, the Blaze Pokemon toppled backwards, landing rather painfully on his bottom. Drew glanced towards the screen again to see that May's points had fallen back as well; the two rivals were now evenly placed. He couldn't help but smirk.

"Roselia, let us wrap this battle up with a final 'Magical Leaf.'" Drew stated coolly, crossing his arms. The Rose Pokemon obeyed, catapulting towards the Blaziken, a green ball. Razor-sharp glowing white leaves exploded out of the Roselia, hurling at the Blaze Pokemon. Drew heard the fire bird's caws of agony as the attacks hit him before he could react or fire a retaliatory move.

Expectedly, May was doing nothing; simply standing there, frozen, her mind undoubtedly clogged with fear. It was one of her major flaws, her inability to think straight. Drew only used her detriments to his advantage; he would be an absolute idiot to do otherwise. He thought he saw a flash of silvery cloth in the audience, which, Drew suspected, was more or less Brendan's hat. Fury boiled in Drew's stomach, and he forced himself to return his attention to the match.

May's Blaziken, badly injured by the 'Magical Leaves', was leaning against one blue wall, his chest heaving with every pant. Drew felt a qualm of guiltiness for ordering his Roselia to attack so brutally, but quickly shook the uncertain feeling away; he had no space for such flimsy emotions. Observing the battle, the green-haired Coordinator noted with a warm feeling in his stomach that his Roselia was appearing relatively healthy, despite the super effective attack she had sustained.

"Hn. Not too bad," Drew murmured, which, to his Pokemon, was like saying, 'Completely awesome.' (Of course, Drew was a man of simple words.) His green gaze flicked over to rest on May's horrified expression, and turned to her Blaziken's frail-looking body. "Even after evolution, that ugly chicken is still weak," Drew remarked callously, overly casually. As May's eyes were concealed by her bent head and bangs, Drew couldn't observe her reaction. "Finish the Blaziken off with another 'Petal Dance.'"

The Roselia sprung up, twirling around in mid-air and shooting pink petals from her red-and-blue roses. Drew could not help but notice that with each passing second, however, the Rose Pokemon appeared a little groggier, a little more disorientated, and then suddenly recalled that the move 'Petal Dance' had its side effects—namely, fatigue. He frowned and hoped that his Roselia wouldn't be too strongly affected, yet a nagging part of his brain told him that she must already be suffering from the first 'Petal Dance' move.

He didn't have a long time to dwell on these discomforting matters, however, as May ordered speedily, "Blaziken, dodge it, fast!"

While Drew's Roselia was no fumbler, May's Blaziken was no laggard either. With grace that almost made up his previous mishaps, the Blaze Pokemon leapt to one side, easily evading the attack that now pummeled towards empty air, and as the various pink petals hit the wall and ground, glitter rose up and seemed merely to beautify the Blaziken instead of causing it damage. Drew ground his teeth at his own hastiness.

With another glance at the scoreboard, Drew noticed even more dishearteningly that his score had fallen magnificently to a pitiful one-third, while May's remained at a solid half. Looking back at the battle, he noticed, almost despairingly now, that his Roselia had lost all dignity and was now tottering like a paper in a hurricane around the stage. It was obvious that 'Petal Dance's adverse repercussions were in full force—and there was nothing Drew could do about it, except for curse his rotten luck under his breath.

"Haha, Drew!" May yelled happily. Drew tried his best not to fume. "Looks like your plan backfired on ya! Blaziken, quickly finish off Roselia with a final 'Blaze Kick!'"

Blaziken chirped energetically, and with vigor rival to a warrior's, charged at Roselia, valiantly ignoring his many bruises. Roselia, still unaware of the peril she was in, was still tottering about like a fool. Drew simply could not look—he turned away, crossed his fingers, hoped that it would just all end—

Amazingly, incredibly, the lights turned off.

He looked wildly about himself, which was just as well, since nobody could see him. Incredibly, a light suddenly began glowing, somewhere in front of him—artificial, but perfect. Slowly, the white light began forming the half-humanoid figure of his Roselia, yet Drew had the queerest feeling that nobody else could see the light. He wondered vaguely if he were going delusional. Or perhaps the sudden turn of events were an extra addition to Johto's Contests? It was well-known that Johto was the most modernized of all the regions, but Drew had a gut feeling that this was no authorized incident.

The confused murmurings of the crowd only confirmed his suspicions, and yet Drew was almost positive that nobody else could see the light—surely someone would have pointed it out by now? He turned his attention back to the illuminated silhouette of his Roselia, which was becoming more and more defined. The light didn't seem like evolutionary, and Drew was confident that it was not his Roselia herself that was emanating the light. He had a suspicion that someone else—someone, perhaps, in the stands—or someone's Pokemon, at the very least—was controlling the light, and probably who could see it as well.

Drew had no time to ponder the mystery of the origin of the light, however—it spread, and yet still the green-haired male could not see anything besides his Roselia's glowing silhouette—and then, he shut his eyes—

When he opened them, May's Blaziken was lying prone on the ground, occasionally twitching, and his Roselia was standing over the fallen Blaze Pokemon's body, looking more perplexed than triumphant.

The audience seemed just as shocked by the turn of events. There was absolute silence as everyone tried to figure out what had happened. Then, suddenly, simultaneously, conversations—all, undoubtedly, concerning the incident that had occurred—flared and the judges discussed the event themselves.

May dropped to her knees with a clatter, wearing a completely blank expression, as if she were far too startled by what had happened to say anything. The judges, meanwhile, had come to a conclusion, and had all risen from their seats. After Nurse Joy exchanged hushed words with Trillion, the orange-haired MC bounced off the judge's podiums and onto the stage.

"Our three judges have come to a conclusion to this, uh, startling match!" She announced loudly. All the mutterings of the crowd quieted to better hear the MC's words. "We have, quite frankly, no idea who caused the lights to go out in a previous match and this one. However, rules are rules, and Drew wins this match."

There were mixed reactions from the crowd—all of his fangirls (and –boys) screamed with glee, while the rest either groaned pityingly for May's cause or cheered Drew on for his victory. However, somewhere in the audience, Brendan's faint but discernable voice was yelling, "What the—?! Grass Ass just got lucky! He shouldn't win! That dirty, cheating, little scumbag—" Ignoring Brendan's indignant protests, Drew couldn't help but smirk. His heart, though, plunged at Trillion's next words, while May's sullen face suddenly turned into a brilliant smile.

"_But_, because of her Blaziken's excellent outfit, we have decided to award her an honorary ribbon as well!" Trillion beamed. Drew's jaw dropped, but he quickly snapped it shut, not wanting to appear stupid. Looking towards May, expecting to see her face shining with radiance, he was surprised to notice that she was wearing an unusually solemn and—was that guilt on her face?—expression. Nevertheless, the feisty MC plowed on.

Pulling out two gleaming ribbons from her blouse pocket, Trillion lifted them up so that everybody could see them. 'Ooh's and 'Aah's came from the crowd as the two emblems, silver and painted (well, what else?) pink in the shape of double hearts, glinted under the spotlight. "These are the two ribbons! May May and Andrew,"—Drew's fans shot the MC murderous glares—"er, I mean, Drew, come and collect their tokens?"

Pompously, Drew swaggered over to claim his prize, making sure to flash a sneer towards May. She seemed to be trapped in a world of her own, however, as she didn't answer, idly collecting her ribbon and examining it through veiled eyes. Trillion didn't appear to be finished, though.

"As May has been made into the records, we thought it only appropriate to honor her with this ribbon," The MC explained, gesticulating with her hands, "It will have equal value with the other, normally-achieved ribbons. This is the first time in Contest history that a ribbon has been rewarded like this, however, so we hope that it will go through all right." Smiling widely at the silent brown-haired Coordinator, Trillion continued, "Well, that's it, folks! We hope you enjoyed the Contest!"

Her words being the cue, confetti bloomed out of tubes extending from the stage, showering Drew, May, the judges, and everyone inside the stage, a hurricane that was a lull in the midst of a storm.

**Cherrygrove Contest Hall—14:53, September 6: Thursday**

Brendan Ruby Birch hurriedly barged his way down the stairs and sprung onto the stage, embracing May in a giant bear hug, lending her abnormally cold body some of his warmth. Practically squealing with joy for his friend's success, he began squeaking, "Oh my Latias, May, that was an excellent battle! On your part, of course, Grass Ass didn't do a single thing worthy of praise"—he paused here to shoot said rather surly-looking green-haired Coordinator a dirty look—"but _you_, May, you were awesome! Seriously, you were absolutely incredible!"

May, her misty eyes clearing, turned to level her gaze with Brendan's. He noticed with concern that she was looked troubled by something—but what?

"Thank you, Brendan," She muttered quietly, lowering her gaze and staring determinedly at her yellow sneakers. Brendan frowned, but didn't comment, yet his heart churned with distress for his friend, though, admittedly, it churned an awful lot for May. "But. . . I don't think I deserve this ribbon." Saying that, she bit her bottom lip and looked away.

The first thought that rose to Brendan's mind was, _Wha? _He opened his mouth, intending to ask as to why May thought she didn't deserve the ribbon—because she sure as hell did!—but before she could say this, the robust figure of a brown-yellow haired youth had appeared and was now asking May questions.

"Hey, May!" He said, grasping May's hand in a firm handshake with his right hand, making sure not to drop the large PokeEgg he was clutching in his left. Brendan's heart stopped for a few moments as May returned the handshake—his ruby eyes almost burned with green fire—but the moment of heated jealousy passed, and the black-haired Trainer was left speculating why he had felt so angry, as the tall boy's gestures were clearly platonic. "It's me, JoJo, 'member? Great job on the battle against Drew!"

As if saying those words were his incentive to talk with the green-haired Coordinator, JoJo turned around to face Drew, who was a few inches shorter than himself. (1) "Hey, Drew! Great job on the battle against May."

Drew's only response was to mutter an ambivalent "Hnn," and begin stalking away, his Roselia by his side. Brendan caught May staring after him blankly, yet an—almost?—wistful fire was burning in her eyes. A nasty feeling bubbled in the pit of Brendan's stomach, but he ignored it. Then, one tossed rose later—the tosser, of course, being Drew—and one swiftly caught scarlet flower later—the catcher, of course, being May—the green-haired Coordinator was gone, having disappeared behind the curve of the door.

A sudden cracking sound interrupted Brendan's painted-red train of thought. Blinking, he looked at JoJo, and was startled to see that the PokeEgg he had been holding in his left hand was now cracking open. Surprisingly, the entire egg did not crack open; five holes were made on the surface of the egg from whatever it was that was struggling inside, and four stubby appendages were thrust out of these holes, while a yellow spiked head emerged out of the largest.

"Prriii!" The Spike Ball Pokemon squealed, flailing his tiny arms and positively blissful that he had hatched. JoJo beamed at his new Pokemon and hugged the Togepi, nearly crushing the small Pokemon. Brendan felt his heart surge for the Coordinator and his Pokemon's happiness, and May looked equally delighted.

"Wow!" May exclaimed, as if completely forgetting the graveness she had assumed not a minute ago, "Your egg hatched!"

"Yeah," JoJo agreed heartily, his green and blue eyes twinkling, "'Bout time, too. ZohmehArceus! I mean, like, the egg _finally_ hatched!"

Everyone stared at JoJo after his brief burst of feminism. If he could have, the male undoubtedly would have sweat-dropped. At that precise moment, however, Max had trudged down the stairs and was now complaining to his sister.

"_May, _I'm so tired and sleepy from all of Drew's glittery powder"—_Right on the mark_, Brendan thought to himself grimly—"and I'm so hungry, as well," Max whined, stamping his feet on the ground.

Unfortunately for everyone else, the word 'hungry' in Max's sentence seemed to remind May of her own starvation.

**Cherrygrove City—11:34, September 7: Friday**

Maybelline Sapphire Maple stretched and yawned loudly as she finished the last of her ramen, which had, incidentally, cost the last of Brendan's on-hand money.

Said black-haired Trainer frowned and, very reluctantly, paid the fee for his friend's lavish indulgence. The blond waitress sauntered away and came back with the receipt startlingly quickly. Sighing as loudly as he could, Brendan tucked the foot-long piece of paper inside his green backpack and motioned for a bloated May to follow.

Groaning under the weight of her stomach, the brown-haired Coordinator slowly stood up, nearly knocking over nearby chairs, one of which her brother was sitting on, lazily rereading one of the magazines that he had 'borrowed' from the Pokemon Center on the S.S. Tidal. Smirking, May snatched the magazine out of his brother's hands, and, ignoring his angry protests, strode out of the door.

She stretched again and took in a deep breath, savoring the warm sunlight that beat down on her exposed arms. Hearing Brendan exit the ramen shop as well, she turned at looked at him with questioning eyes.

"May," Brendan began stoutly, heaving a great sigh, "However glad I am that you managed to win the Contest, I really can't afford to have you feast like this every day; I mean, I understand that every once in a while is acceptable, but I am seriously running low on money. Besides, I already paid for yesterday's lunch. . . and dinner. . . and today's breakfast."

When Brendan mentioned that May had won the Contest, she felt blood leave her face and quickly averted her gaze. The perceptive black-haired Trainer, however, noticed her drop in spirits and swiftly amended his words.

"Er, I mean, great job for winning the Contest! And, don't worry, I'll figure a way to finance your meals. . . somehow." Brendan said hurriedly, face glowing with embarrassment. "Er, you know me, I only said that because I, uh, wanted to keep the money to spend on, uh, cosmetics! Yeah, that's it."

Though May didn't suspect that Brendan didn't want to use his money to purchase makeup, that didn't help matters. Guilt roiled her insides, and the fact that it was not her, but Brendan—Brendan!—who had designed the outfit that was solely responsible for the ribbon that was now resting in May's—her own!—ribbon case was troubling her immensely. Qualms hit her regularly, each one stronger than the last.

Not wanting to dwell on the matter, May plastered the largest, fakest smile on her face and said enthusiastically, "Oh, that's all right! I shouldn't eat too much, anyway. Shouldn't we be setting off for the next town now? Following Marina's directions, after all, right?" She suggested, flinching as she forced herself to mention the blue-haired girl's name. She wasn't quite fond of Marina, personally, but couldn't quite place her finger on why.

Brendan cocked an eyebrow, scanning May's face with his piercing sanguine eyes. She hoped that he would not see through her guise—though, given her horrendous acting skills and Brendan's general good observation abilities, the possibility was slimmer than a sheet of paper. Miraculously, however, he seemed able to accept May's obvious lying and simply nodded.

Max tagging behind, occasionally putting in snippets of complaints, "May, the sun's too hot," or "May, you smell," they made their way back to their (pink) Pokemon Center room and picked up their belongings. After Brendan handed their copper key back to Nurse Joy, the trio set off for the next route.

Within twenty minutes of walking, for Cherrygrove City was not an altogether monstrous town, they had made their way to the edge of the town. Exchanging apprehensive but excited glances, they started their trek up Route 30 to Violet City.

**Author's Notes:**

(1) Yes, I'm making Drew shorter than Brendan. He is now an inch taller than May (Drew, that is.) Why? Because the show says so, and Brendan's last name is a _tree_. C'mon now.

After much inner-debating, I've decided to end the chapter here. I want the next chapter to start immediately with their little journey up Route 30. I'm really sorry that the first Contest had to take up three whole chapters, and I promise that I'll try to keep the unnessecary details in the next Contest to a minimum.

I'm a little concerned about the ending of the Contest, though—do you think such an ending is plausible? I personally don't think so, but I hope that it appears legitimate. Opinions, anyone?

Thank you so much for reading all the way to here! Do you have any questions/comments/suggestions/criticisms? Please take the time to leave a review. It can't be too hard, no?

**Next Chapter Excerpt:**

"Zuzu was relatively content for the most part, as long as he wasn't listening to the DNA Pokemon blabber on and on about some mundane topic or other, and he quite enjoyed the scenery. Lavender mountains dotted the horizon, chalky mist swirling around the pinnacles of each. The grass glowed golden under the leisurely setting sun, and there were occasionally small noises from the wild growth, undoubtedly common Pidgey or Rattata zooming about to complete their daily chores. The Swampert was amazed that such an urban region could harbor such rural beauties, but Zuzu wasn't complaining.**. . . "**

(Sounds boring, no? Oh well. But I'll warn you, I attempt humor in the next chapter.)


	8. Flowering Personalities

**The Johto Odyssey**A Pokemon Fanfic by Galbinus

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pokemon.  
**Dedication: **. . . dunno, really.  
**Chapter Rating: **K **  
OC's In Use: **None**  
Warning: **Attempted humor. Very _bad _attempted humor. That is your warning.**  
Thanks To: **Arc Knight for looking over a few paragraphs of this story.

Before we begin the chapter, I want to thank all of you for your absolutely lovely reviews, and your tolerance with the slowness of this fic. I'll try to speed things up now and cut down on the unnessecary details.

A chapter or two back, however, someone raised the question of whether this fic needs to be upped to a 'T' rating. I personally don't think that it's that mature, but the reviewer pointed out that 'Grass Ass' isn't really appropriate for an audience of 'K ', which is true. Please tell me in your review whether you think the rating of this fic is appropriate or not. If enough people think so, I may raise the rating.

In case you didn't pick up on it before, ":Insert Dialogue Here,:" indicates Poke-speech, which I will once again remind everyone that only Pokemon and some rare humans can understand. Psychic Pokemon can choose to communicate telepathically in English (or another language), which is understood by all, even those who are deaf, but I'm not going to touch on that matter so early in the story. . . Yes, there is a plot to this fic, though it hasn't manifested yet.

This chapter is told completely from Pokemon's POVs (in third person limited, as usual.) Please enjoy it!

**Chapter Eight: ****Flowering Personalities**

**Route 30—14:32, September 7: Friday**

Brendan's Swampert was a little surprised when his Trainer suddenly called him out of his Pokeball.

The Mud Fish Pokemon, who had been snoozing peacefully inside his container, was flung out most unceremoniously and landed painfully on his buttocks, earning sneers from May's Blaziken, who was already outside of his own Pokeball. Twisting his wide face into a frown, the Swampert ambled over to questioningly ogle Brendan with his beady eyes.

"Hey, Zuzu," Brendan said by way of addressing the ground-and-water-typed Pokemon, "May and I thought that it would be best if you guys—meaning, our Pokemon—stayed out of your Pokeballs for as long as possible; you know, accustom yourself to each other and, like, Johto in general."

Zuzu nodded obediently and gamboled over to idle by the Blaziken's side, waiting patiently for his Trainer to send out the rest of his team. As he waited for the recently released red silhouettes to solidify into his comrades, he observed the rest of Brendan's new traveling companions, having only a brief three-hour long session to acknowledge them previously a few days ago.

May's Blaziken seemed oddly confident, and the Swampert recalled solemnly how timid he was as a Torchic, and how easily bossed around. Not that Zuzu had down any emotional jostling to the Blaze Pokemon—it was the other Torchic that did so; in fact, Zuzu, ever patriotic, had tried standing up for the fire-type before, only to earn a few angry scratches on his dorsal fin (the marks had well-since faded away) from the very Torchic he had been trying to protect. From then on, the Mudkip, now a Swampert, had always been wary of the frail-but-feisty Torchic, now a Blaziken.

A tugging on his tail fin caused Zuzu to look backwards, only to witness a grinning Eevee wagging her bushy tail. The Swampert smiled, though he was slightly annoyed by the DNA Pokemon's antics. Given the limber way that May's Eevee was darting from side to side, however, Zuzu judged that the Pokemon excelled at dodging attacks.

As much as the Eevee was active, May's Munchlax was lazy. The Swampert found it very hard to determine if the Pokemon was sleeping, simply standing there with his eyes closed, or dead, though he hoped it wasn't the last. May's Squirtle, undoubtedly the shyest of all of May's Pokemon, was hiding behind the brown-haired girl's ankles as Brendan's Pokemon—all, admittedly, rather large—formed.

":Hello,:" Zuzu said in his deep rumble to the Blaziken in Poketalk.

Not to his surprise, the Blaziken did not respond, but what troubled the Swampert was that the Blaze Pokemon was staring at Ruru, or Brendan's Gallade, with great dislike in his red-orange eyes. A little taken aback by the Blaziken's hostility, and the way the normally courteous Gallade was staring back with (if it were possible) even more belligerence, Zuzu turned to look at how the rest of his Trainer's Pokemon were getting acquainted with May's Pokemon.

Like last time, May's Munchlax took it to burying himself in Brendan's Shiftry's large white mane. Zuzu was tempted to let out a bark of laughter, but given the Wicked Pokemon's rather unpredictable temper, he decided against it. The Squirtle seemed far too scared to want to talk, nevertheless exchange glances, so the Swampert settled on attempting to coerce the Eevee into conversation.

":Hello,:" Zuzu said again.

":Heya!:" The Eevee beamed excitably, leaping from side to side. ":What's up? What's your name? You didn't talk much last time we came out of our Pokeballs. Moltres, I hate those things. Don't you hate Pokeballs as well? I always feel so cramped. That's why I always try to break out. Do you try to break out? I do it all the time. Well, you don't seem like the type to break out of Pokeballs. Do you know why you don't seem like the type to break out of Pokeballs? I don't. Well, do you? Hey, how come you're not talking much? Well, you don't seem like the type to talk much. I love talking! But not listening. Oddly enough, I have excellent hearing! Do you have good hearing? I don't see any ears on the sides of your head.:"

Zuzu blocked out the rest of the excitable Eevee's words, as he couldn't take in any more. The Swampert wouldn't describe himself as slow—on the contrary, he had always felt that he was above par when it came to intelligence—but now he was really questioning his I.Q. level.

":Um,:" Zuzu began, a little unsure where he should start answering the Eevee's questions, ":I'm Zuzu, and, uh, Pokeballs are okay, I guess—:"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, as the Eevee suddenly butt in. ":Wow! You have a nickname? I sure didn't catch that last time 'round. Then again, I probably wasn't listening. I don't listen much. I did tell you that I didn't like listening, right?:"—Zuzu nodded quickly to prevent another long tirade on the travesties of listening to others speak—":Anyway, May never nicknamed us. . . she doesn't have much creativity in that way. Don't get me wrong, she's a great Coordinator and Trainer, really! Though her Pokeblocks are absolutely _horrid_. Those things are _nasty_, I tell ya. If she ever offers you any Pokeblocks, my advice is, don't take it, unless you're on a diet and you want to vomit. Hm. You look like you could use a little diet, but. . . maybe all Swamperts are fat."—Zuzu was appalled.—"Anyway, only Munchlax likes May's Pokeblocks.:" The Eevee stopped to spare the Big Eater Pokemon a pitiful glance. ":He's kind of weird like that. Speaking of which, does your Trainer make decent Pokeblocks? I'm not very observant, but I've noticed he's kind of girly, and since girls generally like cooking, even though May's a huge exception, I thought that he might—:"

":Yeah, Brendan makes great Pokeblocks,:" Zuzu interrupted. The Eevee, obviously very unused to being cut short, looked miffed, surprised, but interested in what the Swampert was saying. ":You should try them one of these days. . . they're really great, really. My favorites are his Yellow Pokeblocks—they're just the right sourness, and they practically melt in your tongue.:"

Incredibly, the Eevee took the time to ponder the Swampert's words. Seizing his chance, Zuzu scuffled away, concealing his bulky frame behind the even bulkier frame of Brendan's Aggron. Luckily for Zuzu, Brendan and May had decided that it was time to get a move on.

"All right, gang!" May called out, "Let's get moving before it gets dark!"

The large group of ten Pokemon and three humans continued down the stretch of dirt that was the path to the next city. Wild grass grew all over the earthy walk, though no wild Pokemon attacked—possibly because they knew that any efforts against the ten experienced Pokemon would be futile; or it could also be because of the very aggressive way Aggron was surveying everything.

Oddly enough, they continued in silence for quite a bit. Zuzu had enough evidence, judging from the way that Brendan would glance frequently at the brown-haired girl, to suspect that his Trainer truly wished to converse with May, but she seemed too troubled by something to speak; Zuzu vaguely wondered what. The Swampert, however, was a little preoccupied with the difficult task of avoiding May's Eevee. Ruru and Blaziken, both naturally fast walkers, had strode the front of the group, both walking at an eerily identical pace.

Over the course of the next few hours, they continued in the same manner: the Gallade and Blaziken in front, both martial Pokemon occasionally shooting Brendan's Milotic (covetous?) glances, followed by Max, who seemed particularly interested in the behavior of Ruru and the Blaze Pokemon, and constantly jotted down notes in the back of a magazine that he carried around. Following Max, Brendan and May walked side-by-side, so close that their hips nearly brushed against each other—strangely enough, each time the phenomenon actually occurred, Brendan's ivory face would glow cerise and he would leap three feet to his left before slowly nearing May again. Then, came the rest of the Pokemon assemble—May's Eevee took turns boring the others.

Zuzu was relatively content for the most part, as long as he wasn't listening to the DNA Pokemon blabber on and on about some mundane topic or other, and he quite enjoyed the scenery. Lavender mountains dotted the horizon, chalky mist swirling around the pinnacles of each. The grass glowed golden under the leisurely setting sun, and there were occasionally small noises from the wild growth, undoubtedly common Pidgey or Rattata zooming about to complete their daily chores. The Swampert was amazed that such an urban region could harbor such rural beauties, but Zuzu wasn't complaining.

After observing the surroundings for a good hour, however, Zuzu became rather bored. The ground beneath him felt more and more pliable with every step, consequentially raising the effort level it took to once again step forward. He noticed that the other Pokemon were looking pretty tired as well, with the exception of May's Eevee, who seemed to have absorbed the others' lost energy to beef up her own morale.

Another hour trudged past, and Brendan—finally—declared that it was time to set up camp. Immediately after the black-haired Trainer's relieving words, the Swampert collapsed on the ground, feeling the indifferent coolness of the dirt soothe his own warm skin. Foggily, Zuzu registered the delicious aroma of vegetables or whatnot wafting over from a collapsible pot Brendan had undoubtedly purchased back at the Cherrygrove City. It was then that the Swampert realized that he had not actually 'seen' the town they exited a lot, and Zuzu wondered what it was that caused Brendan's lapse in memory.

":Zuzu, it is time to eat,:" Ruru announced, ever politely, though Zuzu thought he had scented a hint of irritability in the Gallade's formal voice. A little bit confused as to what incurred the new irritability, the Mud Fish Pokemon reluctantly forced himself back onto his feet, noting that the last few rays of sunlight were diminishing, casting dark pools of shadows underneath each and every figure on the scene.

Amiably, the Swampert gamboled over to rest by the small fireplace Brendan had so speedily established. Said black-haired Trainer was spooning the vegetarian minestrone soup into wooden bowls—no doubt, Shiftry played some part in the creation of the seamlessly formed and polished eating utensils—and passing it around the semi-circle formed by all the Pokemon and the humans. Zuzu was glad to see that Brendan had not, at least, degraded his Pokemon to 'pet' levels in order to suit the other humans' likings; he was even gladder to see that May, on the whole, treated her Pokemon like equals. The little one, Max—who the Mud Fish Pokemon recalled had a particular affinity with Treeko, preferring them over the other two Hoenn starters—didn't seem to mind as well.

At least the food shut the Eevee up, since she was too busy lapping up her share of the soup to interject more words. Tentatively, for that was his part of his adamant nature, Zuzu lowered his wide head to timorously taste the food. His first instinct was to yelp in surprise, as that evening's broth was tastier than normal. He settled for squeaking in shock, earning himself a glare of daggers from May's Munchlax, who had finished first and was now eying Squirtle's, who was seated left of the Big Eater Pokemon, half-finished dinner interestedly.

":Dradra,:" Swampert began, addressing the quiet orange Dragonite leaning against a large boulder, slightly out of the half-circle, ":Tonight's food is unusually good, isn't it?:"

The Dragon Pokemon shifted in agreement, though the twinkle in her small but expressive dark brown eyes warned Zuzu not to insult the food; wasn't going to, anyway, but Dradra liked taking precautions. Unfortunately, the Swampert's words were not ignored by the rest of the Pokemon.

":Waah. . .?:" Munchlax said unexpectedly. The sheer fact that the usually silent normal-type was speaking was enough to shut everyone else up. ":The food's awesome, dude! Man, what are you talking about?:"

A little perturbed by the Munchlax's slurry Californian accent, Zuzu remained absolutely immobile for ten solid seconds before remembering that he was capable of speech. The firelight flickered, and the Mud Fish Pokemon was aware that night had arrived. Unluckily, someone else had decided to take advantage of the time the Swampert was silent to voice his own opinion.

":I don't know, Munchie!:" May's Squirtle wailed in a whiny, juvenile voice, also unexpectedly. Zuzu noted the nickname the Tiny Turtle Pokemon had chosen for the Munchlax. The Swampert half-wondered if the other water-type was doing so was because he was incapable of articulating the normal-type's full name. Perhaps the Squirtle was dumber than Zuzu had thought; in any case, Munchlax easily took advantage of Squirtle's temporary distraction by downing the rest of the Tiny Turtle Pokemon's soup. ":But—but—the food's great!:"

Rather randomly, the Squirtle burst into tears. May, who had started a conversation with Brendan, reluctantly exited the talk to pick up the small Pokemon and place him on her lap, idly stroking his round head to soothe him. Zuzu disapproved of such babying but didn't comment. The rest of the Pokemon, including the Swampert, were glad that Squirtle had left, however temporarily, or at least until May had finished quieting his wracking sobs.

In a desperate attempt to change the subject before all was too late, Zuzu interjected, ":So, um. . . any of you like. . . casinos?:"

The rest of Brendan's Pokemon stared at Swampert as though he had gone insane—well, this was not true; Milotic, who, despite her ladylike appearance, had an unhealthy obsession with gambling, and the last thing she needed was a reminder of her love for the slots, which the Swampert had stupidly mentioned. Zuzu recalled the uncomfortable hours he spent cramped inside his Pokeball while Mimi, the Milotic, was outside of hers and was uncharacteristically authoritatively directing Brendan's exact moves on the machines—even though the Swampert felt that all those uncomfortable hours were worth simply seeing the usually composed black-haired Trainer cower under the shrill commands of the Milotic. Humor seemed to be the last thing on the minds of most of Zuzu's fellow Teammates, though.

Fortunately, Mimi was too busy fantasizing about the various Game Corners she had visited, which gave time for the May's other Pokemon to respond. . . well, that wasn't exactly fortunate.

":Eh, they're all right,:" Eevee commented flippantly, flicking her brown white-tipped tail to the other side, utterly oblivious to the daggers the Milotic was glaring, ":I mean, personally, I think that casinos are a drag, because I'd much rather be talking with other Pokemon than pulling, or telling May to pull, silly knobs so that we can win money that's very hard to win anyway.:"

Before the Eevee could continue in her detailed explanation of exactly why she felt that casinos were dull, Mimi, usually a very private sort of Pokemon, menacingly cut in, ":Don't you ever dare say that casinos are boring again, or else,:" lacing each word with venom and leaving the sentence threateningly unfinished

Bewildered, the DNA Pokemon turned her circular chocolate eyes to lock gazes with the red-faced Milotic's sea-green ones. Mimi emanated a dangerous vibe, and with wisdom contradictory to her carefree nature, Eevee desisted.

Zuzu noticed that both Ruru and May's Blaziken were respectfully—and, if it were, perhaps with a little bit of infatuation gleaming in both's gemlike eyes—watching the Milotic while the rest of the Pokemon were looking at her with something close to terror reflected in their expressions. The Swampert, who knew Mimi a bit better than the rest, also knew that Mimi would never dream of hurting anyone unless it was in a Pokemon battle, but not everyone else knew that. Dradra was one of the few exceptions to this rule, though; seated a little apart from the rest, the Dragonite was constantly aloof from the others.

Her serpentine body swaying with passion in the slight breeze, Mimi began her eloquent tirade.

":Dare not insult the beauty of gambling,:" The Milotic began in a deadly quiet voice, flashing Eevee a rueful glare, ":Else you wish to be undone through various but equally painful methods. Gambling—ah, it is a marvelous, absolutely wonderful, thing. Does not everyone seated here agree with me that it is on the very nature—the very rise and fall of one's heart when the dice is rolling or the numbers are spinning, flashing—that gives gambling its edge. . .?:" Here, Mimi stopped to look around for supporters. Wisely, everyone nodded, Gallade and Blaziken being the most enthusiastic and entranced, and they were the only ones sincerely so. ":. . . I, I thrive on that very edge. . . ."

Perhaps Mimi had said something else, or perhaps not, for Brendan had shrewdly chosen that precise moment to begin collecting the bowls, subsequently ending the Milotic's speech. Mimi scowled scornfully but didn't argue, knowing that any future efforts would be futile.

Almost skipping now, which was an odd site to behold, Zuzu lightly moved away to help Aggron and Shiftry pitch the three small tents—all of which Brendan had purchased. As he was helping with the set-up, Zuzu noticed how ornate the tents looked, despite the fact that they were rather mundane objects in someone's Pokemon journey. Doing some quick calculations in his head, the Swampert realized that Brendan must have spent quite a bit of money since first arriving in Johto a week ago, and his stomach churned with worry. This was not like the frugal Trainer. Brushing the disconcerting thought away, Zuzu turned his attention back to the task at hand and proceeded with the setting-up.

A few minutes later, the three leaf-blankets had been laid, and the three humans began positioning themselves for sleep. Fatigue washing over him again, Zuzu plunked his heavy body on a nearby boulder and promptly drifted off into slumber. Very vaguely, he noted himself being returned inside his Pokeball.

**Route 30—07:03, September 7: Saturday**

Flipping gracefully into the crisp autumn morning, the Gallade landed on his feet, causing small clouds of dust to puff up from the dirt on the ground.

'You required my assistance, master?' Ruru asked telepathically, pivoting silently to face his Trainer. The Gallade didn't have to ask the question at all, though, as he already knew the answer—Brendan wanted to fight Ruru again, one-on-one, human-versus-Pokemon. The black-haired Trainer nodded in reply, and walked back to clear a space. Ruru personally thought that Brendan's efforts were futile—the human was battling against him, a Gallade, the master of physical combat—but Ruru knew that Brendan didn't take 'no' for an answer.

Wearing a stern expression, Brendan lunged forwards and hacked at the Blade Pokemon's abdomen with his a balled fist. Ruru saw the attack coming and easily avoided the attack by darting sideways. Almost as if in slow motion, the Gallade twisted around and slammed the flat side of his celadon elbow-blade into Brendan's back, causing the tall human to land unceremoniously on his knees.

Ruru, not wanting to appear barbaric, waited politely for Brendan to force himself back onto his feet. The Pokemon felt his heart throb with pain as he watched his Trainer struggle to regain his composure, and Ruru wondered if he was a little too harsh; but Brendan struck again before the Gallade could reach a conclusion.

Nimbly, Ruru evaded the blow, sending Brendan toppling forwards very ungracefully. Within seconds, the Gallade had turned around and had pinned his Trainer onto the ground. Brendan raised his hands to signal his defeat, and Ruru leapt back to allow Brendan to stand up again.

Tottering slightly, Brendan turned around to face Ruru again, wearing a pained expression. The Gallade, now concerned that he might have accidentally seriously injured the Trainer, stepped forward to offer his assistance, but Brendan waved the Pokemon away.

'Master, are you all right—?' Ruru started solicitously. He was cut off by a dismissive wave of Brendan's hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Ruru, thanks," Brendan said, though he looked extremely down-hearted. Ruru half-wished that he had feigned defeat; simply seeing his Trainer look so unsure of himself made the Gallade feel ashamed of his easy victory. A few awkward seconds elapsed, in which Brendan checked the various joints of his body to make sure he had not twisted anything. Finally, the black-haired Trainer said, albeit very embarrassedly, "Um, Ruru, could I ask you something. . .?"

A little puzzled by Brendan's uncharacteristic apprehension, the Gallade nodded slowly to signal for the Trainer to continue.

"C-could you, maybe, teach me how to. . . fight?"

The words were unexpected; Ruru blinked in surprise. Had the Gallade, perhaps, heard his Trainer wrong? Surely, Brendan—proud, at times almost ridiculously so—didn't just. . . ask Ruru to. . . teach him how to fight? And yet Ruru knew that he had heard Brendan completely correctly. Pausing for the briefest of moments, Ruru considered Brendan's offer.

'But of course, master,' Ruru replied, bowing respectfully. Yet, the normally private Gallade could not help but add, 'If you don't mind me asking, master, but why do you ask me. . .?'

Brendan's face darkened, and Ruru immediately began regretting his question. However, the black-haired Trainer's face lightened up almost as quickly, and Brendan said, "Well, the best of us have to discard their dignity to advance their skills at times, I suppose; though I don't consider myself the best, of course."

Ruru still had about ten other questions he was itching to ask Brendan, but he decided that it was best not to probe. Instead, the Gallade merely nodded and proceeded to correcting his Trainer—something Ruru was unused to.

'Let us start first on posture,' Ruru began hesitantly, walking over to Brendan's side. The black-haired Trainer watched the Gallade carefully. 'First of all, I have noticed that you implement a rather direct way of attack—which is not altogether different from my own style of combat.' Pausing, Ruru helped Brendan position himself so that he was facing the invisible enemy from his side. 'Doing this will minimize the part of your body exposed to being attacked, and thus greatly mitigate the amount of damage you will sustain during battle.'

Evidently impressed, Brendan did as Ruru directed. The Gallade noted pleasantly that his Trainer was not wasting any time on attempting to appear dignified—when training in combat, Ruru knew, it was best if you forgot that you had a reputation to consider until the very end of battle.

'Now, master, when you're attacking, make sure to have fully calculated what I like to call the "range of evasion" the enemy can dodge in.' Ruru demonstrated by sweeping a large arc in front of himself.

"And how exactly do you do this, if you don't mind me asking?" Brendan said, appearing a little puzzled.

Ruru paused for a moment to decide how he should word his sentence. 'Before beginning the fight, one should always pause to examine how the other moves him or herself,' He said, 'For example, ever since our very first battle when I was still a Kirlia, I have noticed that you move hastily and make quick decisions—which is not an altogether detrimental trait, but it can easily be taken advantage of by a nimble dodger. At the time, I was not exactly, well, fit for combat as a Kirlia, so I molded my combat style around evading attack and striking when the opponent reveals a blind spot.'

Nodding slowly, Brendan took a few short seconds to digest Ruru's words before motioning for Ruru to continue.

'Now, if you are the one actually doing the dodging, make sure to memorize to the best of your ability your opponent's attack style, for both people and Pokemon have the tendency to repeat. Drawing in on what you memorized, you can spare your reflexes and your mind quite a bit of work. The actual dodging, however, relies mainly on how fast you react to the attacks, and very rarely will you actually have to do conscious thinking besides from planning your attacking strategy.'

Brendan looked a little perturbed by Ruru's words upon hearing that dodging had very little to do with actual thinking. Ruru could imagine why—though Brendan liked moving fast, he also had the tendency to ponder and calculate matters for unusually long amounts of time. Hoping to reassure his master, the Gallade hurriedly continued.

'However, it is always possible to improve your reflexes,' Ruru said quickly, causing Brendan's face to brighten perceptibly, 'I've noticed that you have naturally good reflexes and instincts; however, as you haven't done any honing in on your talent—as most with undiscovered skill fail to do—your powers remain unsharpened.'

Before Ruru could say anything else, Brendan butted in excitably, "Could you teach me how to do that?"

Letting a rare smile grace his usually staid features, Ruru said, 'But of course, master. We shall first start off with several simple exercises of my own invention and proceed onto several harder ones I have acquired during combat with the Breloom you briefly took care of for Wally.'

"Oh, and one other thing, Ruru. . ."

'Yes?'

"Don't _ever _call me master again."

'Very well, master.'

**Route 30—09:13, September 7: Saturday**

May's Blaziken, after a refreshing sleep inside his Pokeball, decided it was time to exit. With little difficulty, the Blaze Pokemon lightly rammed into the side of the capsule device that harbored the release button. A few moments later, he found himself being enveloped by scarlet light, and the familiar curious sensation of fading into his surroundings blanketed him. Not five seconds later, he found himself materializing on the cool ground.

Blinking, Blaziken adjusted to the increase in light and looked around himself. May was still asleep, which wasn't too much of a surprise. She had curled up in a ball to maximize heat, though the Blaziken found this a little unnessecary—someone had thrown Brendan's spare jacket on her back to act as a blanket for her, and the Blaze Pokemon was willing to bet that it was said black-haired Trainer who did so.

Flexing his muscular limbs, Blaziken hopped onto the dirt path and began walking, intending to map out his surroundings so that he knew where they were going. Not a minute after beginning his mid-morning walk, however, the fire-typed Pokemon spotted the two humanoid figures of Brendan and Ruru conversing in the distance. Intrigued, Blaziken quickened his pace, but before he could get within the proximity to hear what the two were talking about, Brendan had dismissed the Gallade.

Stiffening as Ruru drew closer, Blaziken noticed that Ruru's tall body was beaded with sweat. Intensifying his gaze, the Blaze Pokemon spared Brendan an oblique glance and thought he saw the raven hair protruding at varying angles from under Brendan's beanie-headwear was slick with perspiration as well. The Trainer also seemed to be sending out another Pokemon, but Blaziken didn't have the chance to contemplate this, as Ruru suddenly knocked into him—accidentally or not, the Blaziken didn't care; what was important was that the Blaze Pokemon now had a reason to get angry.

Eyes widening heatedly, Blaziken opened his mouth and barked out a sharp, ":Hey, watch where you're going, buddy!:"

The Gallade froze in mid-stride. Very slowly and edgily, Ruru turned around to face Blaziken; his dark green eyes flashing dangerously.

Blaziken heard the next words in his mind—he had always thought that psychic Pokemon were rather formidable because of their ability to communicate with others telepathically; he had heard some rumors that they were able to peer into the minds and thoughts of other living things as well. Shuddering, Blaziken tried his best to not dwell on the matter.

'You are May's Blaziken, correct?' Ruru asked monotonously, his words devoid of any emotion.

":So what if I am?:" Blaziken retorted, puffing up his feathery chest. He didn't appreciate the Gallade's indifferent attitude. Not one bit. He also didn't appreciate the fact that Ruru spent and got to spend so much time with Brendan's Milotic, but Blaziken didn't know why he didn't appreciate this fact.

'Hn,' Was Ruru's only reply. The Gallade looked away, and began walking, though not on the path—instead, he strayed off and into the tall grass. Frowning, Blaziken watched curiously as Ruru deftly plucked a scrawny-looking Rattata from somewhere on the ground and knocked it out swiftly by hitting it on the head with the flat side of his right elbow-blade.

Tossing the limp body of the rodent-like Pokemon back onto the path, Ruru began searching out another weak Pokemon to, well, destroy—there was very little fight between the powerful Gallade and the comparably rather pitiful Rattata and Pidgey. Though Blaziken hated to admit it, he envied Ruru's skillful and fastidious moves; Ruru wasted absolutely no time in extravagant and unnessecary movements. In short, the Gallade's 'style' was quite different from Blaziken's own: the Blaze Pokemon liked flaunting his strengths before (literally) incinerating an enemy.

The dull 'thud' of another Pokemon hitting the ground dragged Blaziken back into reality. Puzzled, the Blaze Pokemon looked down to notice that a very much unconscious Pidgey was now lying there. A little sickened by the flawless speed at which Ruru worked, Blaziken watched emotionlessly as two more Rattata were flung through the air and landed by the sides of their fallen comrades.

On a whim, Blaziken strode inside the tall grass and began searching for a Rattata or Pidgey of his own to knock out. Surprisingly, he managed to locate one rather easily, and, with swiftness worthy of a flying-typed Pokemon, he knocked it out with a fast punch to the head.

Hoping that he did not severely injure the Rattata, he tossed the body of the purple Pokemon back onto the path. Dishearteningly noting that Ruru had already collected a foot-high pile of knocked-out Pokemon, Blaziken hardened his will and began working faster.

Simultaneously, he pulled out two Pidgey he spotted pecking at the ground, and slammed them against each other, thus knocking them out at the same time. The two poor Pokemon didn't know what hit them, but Blaziken couldn't stop to properly apologize; he threw the two Pidgey back onto the path, forming his own small pile of three Pokemon.

Noticing that Ruru's pile had now turned into a small mountain, Blaziken grumbled distastefully and worked faster.

**Route 30—10:02, September 7: Saturday**

Brendan Ruby Birch was a little shocked to find the two five-feet high piles of unconscious Pokemon bodies blocking his path back to camp.

His Milotic, who had been idling behind him, reached the end of her tether and irritably snaked up to rest by her Trainer's side. Then, very much unlike her usually collected self, her jaw dropped as she drank in the extremely strange sight.

"Ru—Ruru?!" Brendan exclaimed as Ruru, sweat practically pouring off of him, hobbled onto the dirt path. His usually pale face now greatly resembled a tomato. May's Blaziken, who had rather unceremoniously flung himself onto the ground, thoroughly exhausted from the (apparently) KO'ing work he had done.

Mimi snapped up her jaw and frowned. Brendan was almost sure that they were thinking the same thing:

_It's going to be a long year._

**Author's Notes:**

I lazed off the ending. . . so sue me. I'm sorry, but I have a bit of a writer's block after reading other fanfics and deciding that they're 10 times better than any of the crap I'll squeeze out. . . DX

This is basically how writing this chapter went:

**0 Hours: **Fwee! Time to start a new chapter!**  
1 Hour: **Shoot, I'm not so funny.  
**2 Hours: **Scenery is boring to describe. . . -snore-  
**3 Hours: **I officially hate explaining stuff.  
**4 Hours: **_End this torture!!_

Because I suffered so. . . review:D


	9. That Green Thing & Team Rocket?

**The Johto Odyssey**_  
_a Pokémon Fanfic by Galbinus

**Dedication: **ALL OF YOU.  
**Chapter Rating: **K **  
OC's In Use: **None  
**Warning: **Attempted humor.

HOLY MILTANK AN UPDATE.

-cough-

Thank you all so much for the reviews!! I can't even_begin _to express my gratitude! I'm also _so _sorry that this update is a month belated; unfortunately, some, ah, things got in the way. . . but in any case. . .

Drew appears!! 8D And so does a little bit of plot!! 8DD isn't that dandy?

Anyway, here we go!

**Chapter Nine: That Green Thing & Team Rocket? **

**Route 30—10:03, September 7: Saturday **

It was with trepidation that Brendan's Milotic inquired as to why Blaziken and Ruru the Gallade were piling the unmoving carcasses of Rattata and Pidgey into small mountains.

":What in the name of Kyogre _is _it, Ruru?:" Mimi, the Milotic, asked tiresomely, snaking her way up to rest between the two piles of unconscious bodies of the Pokémon while her Trainer ran off to inform May of their Pokémon's doings.

The Gallade shifted uncertainly, apprehensively shining his elbow-blades, which was a nervous habit of his. Blaziken, on the other hand, proudly ruffled his chest-feathers and pruned magnificently. A little perturbed by the Blaziken's almost tangible self-confidence, Mimi shot the fire-typed Pokémon a disapproving glare before turning back to Ruru.

'Blaziken here and I were having a. . . friendly competition of sorts,' Ruru answered, faltering slightly. Blaziken, as if relaying Mimi's glare, glowered patronizingly at the Gallade before continuing to strut about his pile—a king before his mountain of gold. Mimi thought the Blaze Pokémon's actions to be childish, and sniffed primly before looking away. Amazingly, Ruru continued, 'Are you impressed, Mimi?'

_The nerve of some Psychics, _the Milotic thought to herself, heaving a sigh. ":Darn it, Ruru, the last thing I am is impressed. I would've expected better from a Gallade. . . and as for the Blaziken. . .:" Mimi cast the Blaziken a dark look, remembering when he had burned her tail with his completely uncalled-for 'Blaze Kick' technique. The Blaziken, too, seemed to be reflecting on that fateful encounter, and his ego seemed to diminish somewhat. The Milotic vaguely wondered what it was that caused the Blaze Pokémon's self-confidence to boost so splendidly. ":Whatever. I guess that I should help revive these poor things."

Wearing a confused expression, Blaziken interrupted, ":But just how. . .?:"

Mimi glared daggers at the bird Pokémon, who instantly desisted. ":I'll show you how,:" the Milotic said, grunting as she wrapped her serpentine body around Ruru's pile, feeling the furred and feathered bodies of the unconscious Pokémon lean against her tail and lower torso. Letting her long lashes touch her high cheekbones as she closed her eyes, Mimi tightened her concentration on the color red. Naturally good at focusing, it wasn't long before all that was swarming in the Pokémon's mind was a solid shade of bright red.

Slowly, she felt a warm sensation spark at the tip of the furred horn on her head. With accumulating speed, the warmth shot down from her horn and engulfed her entire body in its heat. Mimi felt herself being refreshed and healed, as was the effect of the 'Recover' move, but she immediately focused on the color blue. As quickly as it had come, the warmth dissipated from her body, but instead of evaporating into thin air, it passed into the bodies of the Rattata and Pidgey.

Opening her eyes, the Milotic barked an authoritative, ":STAND BACK!:" Ruru and Blaziken didn't need telling otherwise, and Brendan was smart enough to perceive the urgency in Mimi's voice. The Tender Pokémon herself snaked back as swiftly as she could.

As the bodies of the previous unconscious Pokémon began to twitch, shaken back to life from Mimi's 'Recover' move, Mimi instinctively lifted the two pink appendages protruding out of her head (1) and shielded her snake-like face with them. Indignant squawks and confused squeaks emanated in rapid succession from Ruru's pile, and in one epic moment, all of the Rattata and Pidgey exploded from the mountain and into the air and grass.

"Ouch," Brendan said dryly, rubbing his wrist where a Pidgey had accidentally scratched in its haste to evacuate the area.

May's shriek back at the camp was very audible in a ten-mile diameter; a horde of Rattata must have passed where she had been sleeping to get back to where they were.

Mimi smirked as all of the blood drained from Brendan's face and he bolted down the dirt path, undoubtedly to check on May's condition. Ruru and Blaziken both looked a little perturbed, but neither said anything.

":Any questions, boys?:" The Milotic asked, flipping her iridescent-scaled cerulean tail to the other side. She noted how her blue and pink scales caught the mid-morning light rather showily, shining a near-blinding yellow, and was instantly reminded of the golden coins the various Game Corners used. A warm feelings bubbled up in the pit of her stomach, but Mimi looked towards the other two Pokémon, who were shaking their heads somberly. ":Well. . . that's good. Now, off to the other pile.:"

**Route 30—13:45, September 7: Saturday **

They had been travelling for several hours. Three hours back, they had come at a perpendicular fork in the road, and the humans had decided to take the one with more ledges as, according to Max's 'Johto Rougher' Magazine, that was the best route to take to get there faster, even though it did advise to watch out for the many slopes, as one, Pokémon or not, could easily trip down them.

In spite of it all, May's Eevee was bored.

Really bored.

So bored that she was actually reflecting upon the past, which was a rarity. In this particular case, she was remembering with much pleasure the deafening scream May had uttered when the pack of a hundred or so Rattata and several dozen Pidgey passed camp, and the hilarious scenario that resulted from some of the less careful bird Pokémon accidentally tearing several tufts of white hair from Brendan's Shiftry's mane. The Wicked Pokémon had leapt into the air, wearing a positively terrified expression, and promptly woke up Brendan's Aggron by slamming into her face with his two stilt-like legs. Things were rather unpleasant afterwards, and so Eevee returned to the current state of events.

She was bored.

And when the DNA Pokémon was _that _bored, bad things always entail.

As it happened, the Eevee had been trotting behind Brendan's Shiftry, idly inhaling and exhaling the crisp Johto air. In a rare moment of 'talker's block', she didn't know what to comment on or talk about. Zuzu was ambling behind her, while Squirtle snoozed peacefully in May's arms. (The little git. Eevee hated the Small Turtle Pokémon for stealing most, if not all, of their Coordinator's attention, but for some inexplicable reason, she was able to conceal these feelings very well.)

Her perfectly circular paws were bruised from the sheer work they had to do, plodding along the dirt path at a ridiculously slow pace while Brendan and May talked about mundane topics like astrology and the meaning of life; well, in truth, Brendan was the one doing all the talking, while May looked dopey and rather inferior. . . In any case, these people obviously have not heard of true philosophy.

Looking around herself, Eevee first spotted Brendan's Shiftry, which spelled hell for the poor Wicked Pokémon.

Her amber eyes gleamed with mischief. Slowly but stealthily, the Eevee quickened her pace until she had butted in front of Munchlax and had almost buried her face in the Shiftry's long, flowing white mane. Nervously, she bit her bottom furred lip and began building up energy in her hind legs.

'Don't think about it, young one.'

Startled by the sudden voice in her head, the DNA Pokémon tripped over her feet and landed face-first into the dirt. Frowning and coughing from accidentally ingesting some of the soil, Eevee indignantly pulled herself back to her feet so she could keep up with the pace of the group, however slow they were. Nevertheless, she was perturbed by how high-pitched and feminine the accent of whomever or whatever it was that had spoken was.

Frightened, Eevee barked, ":Who is it?! Don't hurt me! I know karate! . . . sort of.:"

The DNA Pokémon could practically feel questioning glares burning up her fur, but she valiantly ignored all of the rather negative attention she was receiving, although she was enjoying herself. From somewhere in front of the group came the pattering of feet, and in approximately half a second, Max had appeared by Eevee's side and had promptly flipped open a notebook he had procured out of Latios-knows-where and was scribbling down the events that were unfolding.

There was a mental giggle, and a flash of glitter.

Eevee pivoted, and began speeding off in the direction that she thought the voice and laughter had come from. To her distaste, she found that the route she was taking led straight—

Downhill.

Perhaps she ought to have paid more attention to the (monotonous) 'Johto Rougher' excerpt Max had been reading aloud (and later desisted doing so when he found out that the only person who was paying attention was Mimi, but Eevee knew that the Milotic only did so because the article mentioned the Game Corner in Goldenrod on several occasions).

":Wahh!:" The Eevee shrieked, flailing about in mid-air as she tumbled down the dirt hill. Soil flew everywhere; the debris entered her eyes (much to the poor DNA Pokémon's dismay), rendering her temporarily blinded.

"Eevee!" The normal-typed Pokémon heard her Coordinator yell in horror.

":BLARGH!:" Eevee called out, spitting out dirt from her mouth in utter disgust. Shaking her fur in a last-ditch attempt to rid it of soil, the DNA Pokémon glanced around herself to see if what she had been originally chasing was still there. To the Eevee's surprise, she thought she could still catch a glimmer of silvery dust. Enlarging her viewing scope by taking several steps backwards, the Eevee noticed rather disconcertingly that the particles which so subtly caught the afternoon sunlight's flaunt seemed to form a humanoid shape floating in mid-air. . .

Trying her best to remain nonchalant at her most non-nonchalant discovery, Eevee tentatively approached the hovering figure. Unfortunately, whatever it was that was there suddenly disappeared in a final puff of silver glitter.

":Eh?:" Eevee squeaked in confusion, looking around herself for any sign of the sparkly dust, but finding none. A few seconds later, she found herself being lifted up by two strong but delicate hands and smothered in a large (and painful) embrace.

"Eevee!" May said shrilly, increasing her death grip on the poor DNA Pokémon. "Don't ever do that again! You scared the living daylights out of me with your little act. You could have gotten hurt! It's still a little while from Violet City and its Pokémon Center."

Eevee scowled, a little bit embarrassed by the brown-haired Coordinator's incredibly matronly manner but rather pleased with all the attention she was receiving. A few moments later, however, May desisted and let the feline Pokémon leap onto the ground, where Eevee promptly began cleaning her fur. _A lady must look her best at all times, after all_, the DNA Pokémon reasoned with herself.

":Dude, are you all right?:" Munchlax asked, ambling over and resting a chubby paw on Eevee's shoulder. The DNA Pokémon nodded timidly, comforted by her Teammate's concern. However, it turned out that the Big Eater Pokémon was simply using her as a mean to get closer to May's fanny pack; with surprising agility, the Munchlax unzipped the main chamber of May's dandelion pack and, displaying incredible finesse, removed the Pokéblock carrier case and promptly poured all of its contents into his mouth before stuffing it back inside May's fanny pack.

By way of overcoming this moment of awkward silence, Eevee surreptitiously maneuvered herself back up the hill and back onto the dirt path, discovering that Ruru and Blaziken, the only two who had not gone downhill to see how she was faring, were engaged in a most epic staring contest. Deciding that she should probably not interfere with the two (fighting-type, no less) Pokémon's little competition, Eevee walked away.

Within two minutes, where areas in the 'old days'—or 'golden age', Eevee liked to call it, compared with the authoritarian workout Brendan was forcing so indifferently upon all of the Pokémon; heck, she was actually thinking about the past again—such an action would have taken twenty, thirty minutes with Ash and Brock. What Eevee meant, of course, was the most sudden 'getting-back-on-track.' It seemed that, almost instantaneously, they were back gamboling down the path, and Eevee was back drowning her in boredom.

"Eevee, you look rather bored, don't you?" May said boringly, startling the bored Eevee out of her boring reverie. The DNA Pokémon looked up to see her Coordinator peering down concernedly at her.

The small feline Pokémon mewed in a bored way by way of reply.

"Come back into the Pokeball, then," May said.

The last thing that Eevee saw was a beam of red light enveloping her body, and the peculiar sensation of being tugged by an invisible hook at the nape of her neck before darkness fell.

**Route 30—16:45, September 7: Saturday**

Cassidy Rohl languidly flopped to the other side of the field.

Her partner, Butch, was occupying the other side. She ended up accidentally kicking him in the side of his stomach.

"HEY! Watch out, Cass'!" The turquoise-haired man cried out in indignation, rubbing his ribs and appearing very pained. With a frustrated 'ugh', Cassidy pulled herself to a sitting position.

"Hmph! If you hadn't been there, then you wouldn't have been kicked! This is your own entire fault, Butch." Cassidy said, scowling and running a gloved hand through her long blonde-orange hair. She deepened her scowl when she saw that the hair gel she used to keep her two long ponytails (pigtails seemed too childish a term to the woman) straight were waxing under the afternoon sun, and had come off on her white-gloved fingers.

Butch, too, pushed himself to a sitting position. "_What?_You shouldn't have kicked me in the first place! You clumsy old hag—"

"_What did you call me, Butch Cleaver?!" _

"You heard me the first time, Cassidy Rohl!"

"ARGH! I'll tear your stupid green hair out!"

"It's not green, it's _blue_-green." Butch said matter-of-factly, frowning.

"WHATEVER!" Cassidy screeched, and lunged, tackling the other Team Rocket member and causing him to 'oomph!' in surprise.

"Ow!"—slap!—"Please!"—slap!—"Don't!—slap!—"Hit!"—slap—"Me!"—_slap!—_"THERE! Oh, you're going to pay for that, Cass'. . . who cares if you're a girl!"

Kick!

A thousand vulgarities streamed profusely out of Cassidy's parted cerise lips. As sweat rolled in fat drops down her forehead and across her face, her scarlet lipstick liquidated and dropped onto the ground, like blood. Ignoring the fact that her makeup was very much ruined, Cassidy aimed another punch at Butch's stomach, and hit him square in the guts.

Things had ascended to a point where the two, usually so cooperated and sleek in their operations, were actually fighting with each other. Cassidy blamed Butch; and, little did she know, Butch blamed her. Both adults cried out in frustration as they failed to injure the other to a degree of severity of their satisfaction, but after a few minutes, both had acquired a new collection of colorful bruises—luckily, most were covered by their uniforms—and scratches.

"Ouch! Stop!" Butch cried out in pain as Cassidy landed a good hit on his right shoulder. Now content, the blond woman rolled to a side to allow her partner to nurse his bruises as she nursed her own. Muttering underneath her breath about the travesties of men picking on women, Cassidy haughtily dusted her uniform, smoothing out several determined wrinkles on her black skirt, and stood up.

Stretching, Cassidy remarked, "Ah, it's so boring. We caught all of the wild Pokémon we saw on the way here. There are no Trainers to pick on. . . I want to test out the new pushover Sinnoh Pokémon we snatched from that blue-haired Trainer on some poor sucker. . ."

Their brief argument and catfight already forgotten—such was the way of the Team Rocket members for, well, life—Butch frowned again and said, "But Cassidy, we haven't trained that Pokémon at all. It's rather pathetic looking, to be frank; and the only reason we snatched it was coz we overheard that teenager we snatched it from boasting that it was rare-colored or somethin'—shiny was the word, wasn't it?"

"Mmm," Cassidy said, pursing her lips and nodding in agreement, "I can barely tell the difference."

Butch sighed, then glanced at his Rolex watch, which was one of the few possessions the two Rocket members possessed between them that had any monetary value—it was also one of the things that the turquoise-haired man constantly reminded Cassidy that he owned.

"The boss isn't going to be very happy. We haven't really been very productive in a long while. There was that whole Oak fiasco thing. . . and Giovanni hasn't really forgotten about the Breeding Center scandal five years ago."

Cassidy blanched ostensibly; the memory still haunted her nightmares of their usually so calm and collected boss blowing up when they informed him of the incident. Butch wisely took note and remained silent for the next ten minutes.

Then, wonderfully, gloriously—they heard footsteps.

**Route 30—16:56, September 7: Saturday**

Andrew Rosalind languidly took a sip from his canteen, idly observing his surroundings. His Roselia was out of her Pokeball—well, what else was new?—and so was his Masquerain, while the rest of his Pokémon remained in their respective Pokeballs in his knapsack. The Thorn Pokémon was deep in conversation with the Bug-typed; and as they passed through the route—coniferous trees framing both sides of the dirt road—what had started out seemingly as an affable exchange of words had tangent-ed off into a far more hostile argument.

":Bug Pokémon are superior to Grass Pokémon,:" Masquerain stated smugly, beating his multi-colored wings with even more vigor than usual.

":Shaddup, you big loggerhead,:" Roselia said waspishly, furling and unfurling the red and blue roses that sat at both ends of her tendril-like arms.

":I'm not a loggerhead, spike-face.:"

":Says the gender-confused flying insect with the rod-thing sticking out of his head.:"

Masquerain looked hurt and angry; most likely subconsciously, he began releasing an increasing amount of powdery excretions from his wings. Drew, ever sensitive to glitter of any sort, turned back to look at his two Pokémon. Although he could not understand a word of what they were saying beyond 'Rose, rose,' and 'Masq, Masq', he could easily deduce that they were nearing a fight. He didn't especially mind the extra glitter, but Drew thought that he should not encourage such actions.

"Don't argue," Drew said mildly. Grudgingly, Masquerain and Roselia desisted, and the green-haired Coordinator nimbly turned back to face the dirt path. Glancing at his diamond-crested watch, he noted that it was pretty late into the afternoon, and, doing some quick calculations in his head, decided that it would take only a few more hours to get to Violet City.

Hopping over yet another clump of wild grass, Drew wondered vaguely just how many wild Pokémon the Johto wilderness could harbor. In the morning and earlier afternoon, his Roselia and Masquerain had taken care of several Weedle, several dozen Pidgey, and several dozen Rattata—for some strange reason, the last two species appeared in a giant, congruous swarm, for some reason that completely baffled the green-haired Coordinator—but in the later afternoon, no more wild Pokémon had confronted them.

Oddly enough, after only one more minute of walking, Drew began feeling increasingly edgy—almost as if he was being watched. Looking around himself, he noted that they were nearing another steep ledge; this one was, in fact, a good deal starker than the others he had seen. Glancing over the edge of it, he noted disconcertedly that a lot of very tall, wild grass covered the entire of the slope; one could easily hide there.

He found himself craving the presence of another human. His Pokémon were fairly empathetic with his various flippant whims and idiosyncrasies, sure enough; and they were company, albeit not very lively, for Drew had made it an important habit to routinely subdue their quirks (which was rather hypocritical, sure, but Drew didn't think on it much, believing to be doing the best for his Pokémon), which led to them having rather drab personalities in public—which was his goal, sure. . . yet. . .

Drew wished May were with him.

Because it was May, and May only, who could calm Drew's spirits with her bubbly personality and calming words, despite him criticizing her on many occasions. At times, Drew wondered why did such a thing; but being raised in a strict household and with limited opportunity to socialize with his peers until he left for his Pokémon journey (and even then, he did not exactly have a lot of friends, with the possible exception of May), he did not really know the best way to express appreciation. So he did the only other thing he knew how to do, as his father has done it to him on so many occasions: he berated her.

Drew shook his head, and wondered why his thoughts had drifted to May.

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prick up. Quickly, he spun around, only to notice nothing suspicious beyond the fact that his Roselia and Masquerain were exchanging a series of very silent and very glittery blows of 'Stun Spore' and 'Silver Wind'.

Frowning, Drew watched as the two Pokémon's 'battle' ceased after a few seconds. Roselia's face burned green-purple with embarrassment, and Masquerain's heart-shaped face burned a hot pink.

"I will not tolerate any of this improper behavior," Drew reprimanded reproachfully, folding his arms over his chest. Roselia and Masquerain's heads drooped lower. "Roselia, you, as my first Pokémon and the only lady on the Team, should know this; and Masquerain, I am deeply ashamed of your childish antics. I know that you two do not get along very well, but we have always tried to mask that fact in Contests and public; however, this does not give you an excuse to behave so irrationally privately! Now, apologize to each other."

Roselia and Masquerain shifted uneasily and reluctantly faced each other.

":I'm sorry, Masq-Crass,:" Roselia said in her sweetest voice. Drew detected nothing wrong, and turned his expectant glare to Masquerain.

The bug-typed Pokémon hummed angrily (why, though, escaped Drew; Roselia's apology had sounded extremely sincere (2)), but said, ":And I apologize, too, dearest _Thornelia_.:"

Just as Drew began to smirk in satisfaction, a huge eruption behind him interrupted his smile.

Whipping around, Drew was surprised to see was a huge cloud of smoke obscuring almost everything behind him. He coughed violently and waved his hands in an attempt to clear his field of vision. His eyes stung and his eyes grew a little too wet for his liking.

When at last the smoke cleared, Drew was even more surprised to find two adults, one sea-green haired man and one blond woman. Oddly enough, they were both clad in considerably rumpled-looking Team Rocket uniforms. Their figures were carefully positioned in a very superhero-like and immature manner; juxtaposed against the other, it was hard to differentiate their rather smug expressions.

Before Drew could say anything, however, the two adults burst into, well, song.

"Prepare for trouble!" The goldenrod-haired woman exclaimed, twirling magnificently.

"And make it double!" The man said loudly, flinging his arms into the air.

Drew was instantly reminded of Jessie and James; a pitying smirk tugged at the corners of his pallid lips.

"To infect the world with devastation—"

"To blight all people in every nation!" The man was trilling. The sight was somewhat scarring. Even Masquerain was embarrassed.

"To denounce the goodness of truth and love,"

"To extend our wrath to the stars above!"

"Cassidy!" The woman cried, executing a rather bad cartwheel. Drew took this to be her name.

"Butch!" The man shouted with equal vigor, executing a worse back flip. Drew wondered why anyone would them their child 'Butch'.

"Team Rocket circling the Earth both day and night!"

"Surrender to us now, or you'll surely lose the fight!"

From somewhere, a Raticate sprung out of a Pokeball and screeched most vociferously, "Raticate!" while belligerently thrashing his whip-like tail.

Roselia gave a puzzled sort of pruning noise, as if to ask, "Is this a joke?" Drew had been thinking the same thing. He was quite stumped and did not know what to do, though in his dazed reverie he came to a conclusion that they had been hiding in the wild growth on the slope.

Unfortunately, Drew did not have much time to think. He thought he saw Cassidy send out another Pokémon, and the last thing he saw were needles, glowing a venomous purple, hitting him square in the chest, and, for some reason, he managed to laugh absurdly (and most un-Drew like, but perhaps the poison was driving him a little insane?) for a few seconds at his ridiculous predicament before passing out.

**Author's Notes: **

(1) In all seriousness, what are those things?

(2) Though Drew is close with his Pokémon, that doesn't mean that he doesn't get what they say at times. Besides, I need this for comic effect.

All right! Well, we're done with this chapter. 8D About time. Please excuse the extremely delayed update.

I tried sprinkling in random moments of Hoennshipping and Contestshipping. . . and I have a feeling that I failed remarkably. Also, against my better judgment, I decided to spiral the end of this chapter into a badly composed cliffhanger. Please don't hang me for that.

In any case. . . drop a mean review?

**Pokémon © Satoshi Tajiri  
Story © Galbinus  
Various OCs © Their respective owners **


	10. Transitions & Reunion?

**The Johto Odyssey****  
**by Galbinus

**Dedication:**Duel Soul! Your review was just so heartening and supportive, not to mention LONG!  
**Chapter Rating: **K -- T for light swearing and slight 'inappropriate' themes (depends on how you look at it)  
**OC's in Use: **Arc Knight's **Arthur Knight**

Goodness, I've just realized that our heroes have only been travelling together for a week. . . D8 Hopefully I'll be able to pick up the pace a little, and detail more than just a day with each new update. -headdesk- Please bear with me.

This is more of a plot background-building chapter, by the way. Hope you guys don't mind too much. Also, some old beloved characters from the first two chapters resurface in this fic. (:

Anyway, enough chit-chat. On with the story!

**Chapter Ten: Transitions & Reunion? **

**Violet City—06:40, September 8: Monday **

_Sparse chartreuse sunlight filtered through the thick speckled canopy, shading scarce parts of the leaf-blanketed floor a luminescent green. Magnificent deciduous trees lined the forest, bunched so closely together that it blocked out most of the light; and the woodland appeared to be shrouded in a perpetual light. _

_The eerie callings of nocturnal bird Pokémon, as they huddled up in their nests for their twelve-hour sleep through day, echoed voraciously through the forest—mothers calling for their young to return from their nightly wanderings. The terrestrial Pokémon blinked and rose to consciousness, beginning their morning activities: collecting food for the imminent winter, grooming their glossy coats, or tasting the air for prey. _

_A lone, humanoid figure strode purposefully through the sylvan scene; each movement fastidious as the boy picked his route through the wild growth and boulders. Though his actions were sure, confident, brimming with certainty, Brendan Ruby Birch was very much puzzled as to why his body was moving itself in that way. Twice, he attempted to halt his movements, only to find out that he had no control over his legs whatsoever; oddly enough, the entire thing seemed illogically natural, and so Brendan let his feet carry himself to whatever it was that was his destination. _

_The road suddenly took a steep upturn; the forest became hilly. To his left, Brendan vaguely noticed a meandering stream and registered the genial gurgling of water over pebbles. His legs pressed onwards; and though his calves burned through the strenuous exercise—(how Brendan was glad of his routinely sparring sessions with Ruru!; else he did not know if he would still be conscious)—his feet gave no intention of stopping. _

_At last, Brendan's legs slowed. Turning himself back into his surroundings, Brendan noticed that the river had sprawled into a vast, circular lake. Sunlight reflected off the hoary, rippling surface; glittering golden dust flaked off the miniscule waves and evaporated into thin air. Further ahead of the lake, Brendan could see that the trees gave way to an ovular clearing. There appeared to be some sort of shrine erected in the center, though Brendan's eyes, usually so acute, could not see clearly. _

_Something exploded out of the lake water; startled, Brendan turned to look back at the water; there appeared to be a— _

May gave a raucous snore and turned over in her sleep.

Brendan woke with a start, breathing heavily. Lifting his gloveless right hand to his forehead, Brendan wiped off a rivulet of sweat and noticed that the air around himself was pervaded with the familiar stink of perspiration. Disgusted with himself and a bit alarmed with May's nocturnal habits, Brendan blinked, slightly dazzled, and threw off his Violet City Pokémon Center blanket.

Careful to not hit his head against the bunk bed (bottom of which he slept in and top of which Max was snoozing peacefully), ever wary of his considerable height, Brendan attempted to yawn silently, failed, and caused May to snore again.

Despite her rather unfeminine acts, Brendan still found her, slumbering sweetly and wearing an expression of pure bliss, extremely adorable. He found himself leaning startlingly close to her face, and shook himself out of his amorous reverie.

As he noiselessly exited the room, still garbed in his pajamas yet clutching his new change of clothes and a toothbrush, Brendan pondered his dream. It had felt incredibly real when he was still sleeping; but then again, Brendan chastised himself, so do all dreams. Still, he could not completely ignore the perturbing thought. Parts of his dream had faded away with the action of waking up—he had forgotten what it was that he saw at the very end—but he could remember the general idea. Frowning slightly, Brendan wondered why it was that he could not control his feet. Brushing aside the thought, Brendan turned on the faucet and ran his hands under the sheet of cold water.

**Violet City—06:58, September 8: Monday **

The silvery sheen of moonlight faded away as the night sky gave way to lavender dawn.

Silver Smith idly rubbed his bare hands against each other for warmth. Johto's wintry months always came earlier than the other three regions' did, a fact that the teenager thought a bit troublesome at times. Though it was not well into September, the crisp, icy air already embodied most of the traits that made autumn.

He brushed past an evergreen tree, vaguely tuned into the sound of his dark boots tapping lightly against the light celadon limestone. At this hour, people were just beginning to exit their houses and preparing for work. Silver bristled slightly—he did not like the presence of other people.

Stopping abruptly in his tracks, Silver stuffed his hands inside the narrow slits that were pockets of his long-sleeved ebony shirt. Dipping his head forwards half a degree, the teenager allowed his scarlet locks to create a sheet of hair concealing his angular, attractive features from prying eyes. Hunching his back, he carefully maneuvered himself through the thickening crowd to the Pokémon Center of the town, as he did not yet have a residing place.

To his distaste, a tall teenage male accidentally brushed by him just as Silver was rounding the corner to enter the healing center. Instinctively, Silver's right hand flew out of the pocket and hit the other boy square in the gut. His unfortunate victim gave a surprised 'umph' and doubled over.

Silver was a little taken aback that his unintended attack had that much of an impact. A small flicker of guilt mingled with regret spasmed through his conscious mind, but the red-haired teenager irritably brushed the pitying feeling aside. As he had learned through his difficult childhood, the only way someone could become weak is if he pitied the weak.

"Watch your step," Silver growled in his husky, monotonous voice, silently putting his right fist back inside his pocket. Stiffly, he began walking away—and to his surprise, he found himself being assaulted from the side by a powerful, anger-loaded kick.

Giving an involuntary and rather pathetic yelp of pain, Silver's left hand flew up to meet his left abdomen, where a bruise was undoubtedly blossoming.

"The heck?" Silver grunted, preparing to slam his fist into the other boy's back.

To his surprise, Silver found his punch being stopped by the teenager's swift palm. Silver blinked. How the other boy managed to move so quickly in a matter of half seconds escaped him; he watched as the black-haired boy's bemused expression rapidly evolve into one of annoyance.

"Ruru, I don't needyour help on every trivial matter," The boy said, grinding out the words with as much frustration he could. It was quite a bit, given his somewhat cynical disposition—even Silver, who did not know him very long at all, could tell.

'I apologize, master.'

Silver blinked again; he thought he heard a voice say 'I apologize, master,' and then, he thought he didn't. He then remembered that psychic Pokémon had the unique ability to communicate telepathically in any language with humans, and decided that had to be it.

Coughing significantly, the other boy began to say, "Uh, I think that _you're _the one who should be doing the apologizing, actually." He nodded pointedly at Silver, who flushed indignantly.

"As if it is my fault that you crashed into me," Silver retorted automatically, trying his best to contain his anger.

The black-haired youth frowned and, much to Silver's surprise, gave a hoarse chuckle. "Man," He said, attempting to suppress a bunch of extremely girly giggles, "You're even worse than Grass Ass, and that's saying something. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some things to attend to."

Silver did not know whether to frown back at the other male or not. He watched as the teenager coolly walked onto the stone street and disappeared in the growing crowd.

A social neophyte, Silver did not know whether to follow him or not, but decided against it.

_I have a task to fulfill. _

He sighed.

**Violet City—13:04, September 8: Monday **

"No!"

"Chill, Brendan, the gym will open again tomorrow—"

"NO!"

"Brendan, just relax, you can always come again later—"

"_NO! _Latios, what have you wrought upon me?! Have I done unto thee some heinous deed?! I beseech thee, please erase this nightmare!"

Maxson Maple quirked an eyebrow. Brendan was caterwauling, sprouting adventitious Shakespeare. May, who had taken to the impossible act of attempting to erase Brendan's 'indelible' pain, looked extremely harassed; undoubtedly, the whole morass was taxing on her patience. Max hoped his head would not be the one taking the toll for Brendan's behavior.

In the end, May ended up dragging Brendan away from the entrance of the Pokémon Gym with her bare hands. Max was impressed by his sister's strength but wisely refrained from commenting. Instead, he trailed the all-too-conspicuous duo by a safe twenty meters, holding another magazine he had snatched from the Pokémon Center in his right hand.

_Celebi: What We Know  
A Johto Rougher article by Mimi S. _

_Celebi, one of the esteemed and widely-revered Johto legendaries, rumors to reside in the Ilex Forest, _Max read to himself, _There have been several alleged sightings of the Time Travel Pokémon since its first sighting in 167 by Kanto-born Johto explorer, Nathaniel Elm (ancestor of current famous professor, Jonathan Elm). _

"May, I implore you to release me!" Brendan cried melodramatically. May's only reply was to tighten her hold on the scruff of Brendan's vest until her lightly-tanned knuckles blanched chalky white.

_One audacious Pokémon Trainer, who prefers to keep her name anonymous, managed to record a decent amount of information in a prototype Pokédex (designed and assembled by Professor Elm) before the elusive Celebi could escape. Its confirmed height is two feet, as of March 12th, 2005, and its confirmed weight is a light 11 pounds exactly; it does not appear to have a gender, but further research may be done in this field. _

Max glanced up momentarily from his magazine page and looked around himself. The throng seemed to lessen slightly, and May was leading the group towards a stately looking purple-topped building.

_An interesting thing to note about Celebi is that it is extremely distrustful of humans, as can be inferred from its reluctance to interfere with human society, but it is much more amiable towards Pokémon from the few instances that we have seen it. However, it has been known to be friendly towards humans, particularly in times of need or when the human(s) in question is exceptionally kind to it. Obviously, though, Celebi has eluded capture for many centuries. _

"Hey, Brendan, let's go in here," May suggested, dragging them inside the house. Looking up from his article again, Max readjusted his round glasses and surveyed the inside of the building. It appeared to be a single-roomed schoolhouse, but there were not a lot of students inside; Max glanced up at an analog clock that hung atop the wall directly in front of him. It read '13:08'. Perhaps the students were out at lunch. Shrugging, he returned to his article.

_The same person who partially recorded Celebi's data in the Pokédex commented that the Pokémon's eyes were extremely expressive. While this observation may have no scientific uses, perhaps we can infer from this that the Pokémon is particularly attached to its emotions, which is not an unheard of quality for a legendary Pokémon (examples include Mew, Manaphy, etc.). She also remarked that the Pokémon emanated a great deal of _

— Max was cut off abruptly in his reading by someone above him giving a booming laugh.

Annoyed, the blue-haired boy closed his magazine and stared up at his intruder, who was an old man with a stubby white beard.

"Ah, we have a kid here who likes to read?" The old man said, laughing jovially. Max was alarmed, and became more so when the old man reached down to ruffle his blue hair. May dropped Brendan in shock, and he landed noisily on the wooden ground. "That's a rarity! Say, kid, you're new to Violet Town, eh? I haven't seen you around these parts before."

Perturbed, Max replied somewhat shakily, "N-no, I'm from Hoenn." As an afterthought, he added, "Sir."

"Wow! From Hoenn, eh?" The old man said, laughing again. "That's quite far away! Say, is this your first time here at Earl's Pokémon Academy?—I'm Earl, by the way." Without waiting for Max to answer, Earl steamrollered on, "Say, who did you come with?"

Much to Max's relief, May cut in for him. "I'm his sister, May, and I'm responsible for Max." Earl turned towards May, eyebrows raised at the interruption, and then he glanced down at where Brendan was lying in a pathetic pile on the floor; Earl's eyebrows disappeared into his mass of gray hair. "And, uh, that's my friend Brendan," May continued, pointing towards Brendan, who grunted in acknowledgement of his name and struggled to pull himself to his feet.

"Ah! We have a bunch of young ones here then, eh?" Earl chuckled deviously. "I assume that you, May, and Brendan are Pokémon Trainers? Judging from your experienced-looking appearances and, well, the Pokeballs on Brendan's belt."

Brendan half-whimpered, half-scowled. May beamed at the compliment. "Yes, Brendan's a Pokémon Trainer, but I'm a Pokémon Coordinator; there's not much of a difference, but there still is. We're on our Pokémon journey. Your name's Earl, right?"

"Yes!" Earl said. Max was not altogether surprised by the fact that May and Earl were getting along so smoothly; his sister was simply social like that. "Say, are you looking to enroll Max here into the Pokémon Academy? A reading-loving boy like him would fit in just fine with our crowd of rowdy students!"

Max turned pleadingly towards May; he did not want to be stuck here while she and Brendan went off on their Pokémon journey. Plus, he did not like Earl's undoubtedly deliberate usage of the word 'rowdy'. Luckily for him, May was looking apprehensive as well, presumably at the thought of submitting her younger brother to the likes of such an insistent schoolteacher. Unfortunately, the idea of leaving her troublesome little brother must have somehow leeched into her mind, and a much more scheming expression crept onto her angular face.

"Please, May! I don't want to stay here," Max whined under his breath, hoping he didn't sound as annoying as he sounded to himself.

May finally relented to her brother's whining and, turning towards Earl, said, "Sorry, but Max is coming with us. Thank you for the offer, though."

Earl looked slightly disappointed, but another cheery smile soon replaced that. "Ah, oh well, then. But here, take this item as a token of my gratitude!" Saying that, Earl reached into his pants pockets and pulled out a sharp, curved claw, handing it to May, who accepted it and eyed it curiously.

Max instantaneously recognized the object as a Quick Claw, and before he could restrain himself, he blurted out, "That's a Quick Claw! A Pokémon holding that in battle will sometimes be able to strike first, even if they are naturally slow. Using it, a Slowpoke can even attack before a Rapidash!"

"Golly! That's a smart one. You're very correct," Earl exclaimed, appearing genuinely awed. Even Brendan was a little impressed, though May simply scowled at her brother. "A real pity that we couldn't have him at our Academy, but, all the same, the best of luck to you."

"Wait—why are you giving this to us again?" Brendan suddenly cut in suspiciously. May looked somewhat irritatingly at the teenage boy; she clearly did not want to surrender the item, and given Brendan's skeptical nature, things may not turn out in May's favor.

"Oh, I just feel like it," Earl said, waving his hand vaguely. Max had the feeling that Earl was deliberately concealing something from them, though he had another feeling that whatever it was it was not malignant. The answer was not enough for Brendan, though; the black-haired male opened his mouth to fire another volley of questions, but May clamped her palm over his mouth and dragged him away, shouting thanks at Earl over her shoulder.

Max shrugged and, rolling up his magazine, pocketed it. He wondered how long he would have to tag along after May and Brendan before he could get his own Pokémon.

**Violet City—19:34, September 8: Monday **

May Maple sank luxuriantly into the lime-green sofa at the Violet City Pokémon Center, her body aching all over. After another day of intense training with Brendan (interspersed with random, rather awkward tips on makeup), she was ready to fall right back asleep.

Brendan was at the counter, healing May's Beautifly for her. Flopping lazily to the other side, May kicked her brother off the end of the sofa, ignoring his protests, and tried to fall into dreamland, but failed.

The faint 'bzz' of the sliding door open once again pulled May out of another attempt to fall asleep. Aggravated, the brown-haired girl pulled herself out of the sofa and looked up at the intruder: a stocky but tall man with a full beard and moustache; sleek, well-combed brown hair topped his head. Originally having intended to gather up an annoyed insult or two to throw at the intruder, May found her initial desire fading away; he was confident and fastidious in stride and exuded a genial, courteous aura.

"Done yet, Brendan?" May called out, deciding to ignore the presence of the newcomer, who was unclipping a couple of Pokeballs from a black leather belt around his waist.

"Yes," Brendan replied, walking over to wear May was seated and tossed her Pokeball to her. May fumbled with catching the capsule device and stuffed it inside her dandelion fanny pack. "Well, we should go for dinner. . . oh, wait."

"What's wrong?" May said. From somewhere to her bottom-left, Max flipped a magazine page, muttering incoherently under his breath.

"I. . . ran out of money," Brendan admitted, embarrassingly scratching the back of his neck, his pale face pinking. "You know, from your previous ramen. . . sprees."

May felt her face blanch. "You what?"

"Ran out of money."

"_Does this mean that I won't get to eat ramen?_" May suddenly recalled seeing numerous ramen shops lining the green streets of Violet City. "I remember seeing a lot of ramen shops." Max snickered under his breath; May kicked her brother in the back of his head with more force than their mother would approve of.

"Unfortunately, yes," Brendan said, backing away slowly. "But, uh, I'm sure I can whip up a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich or two for you to eat. . ." He trailed off. May did not prefer peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches over a bowlful of steaming ramen, and her face showed it. She had no intention of hurting Brendan, who had been more than kind to her, but her emotions were getting the best of her.

Just as May was wondering just what she was going to do about this monumental problem, the brown-haired stranger interrupted, "Excuse me, but if you don't mind, I can treat you three to dinner. You see, I work as an emcee at the Goldenrod-Johto Radio Tower, and I have some extra change to spare."

May felt an enormous pressure being alleviated from her chest. Brendan decided to unceremoniously ruin her moment of glory.

"I'm sorry, but we cannot accept your offer, as kind as it is," Brendan said, "I mean, no offense or anything, but you're a complete strang—" May clamped her gloved hand over Brendan's mouth, successfully muffling his words.

Before May could excuse Brendan's most unintended, accidental sentence, the stranger chuckled and said, "Oh, you're very right. Perhaps I should show you my Trainer's license." Saying that, he dug out a sleek coppery card from the breast pocket of his brown shirt and showed it to them. Sure enough, May recognized the formal, Pokeball-shaped stamp of the Interregional Pokémon League emblazoned across the top-right corner of the card. Her azure eyes travelled across the surface of the identification card, and she saw that the man's name was 'Arthur Knight', and that he had been registered seventeen years ago as an official Pokémon League Trainer.

_Hmm. . . normally, Trainers start off at age 10, _May mused silently, scratching her pointed chin, _So. . . ten plus seventeen equals. . . _

Vaguely, May registered Brendan snatching the identification card and scrutinizing it as if it were a fraud will that endangered his chances of inheriting a million Pokédollars.

_Sixty-three? No, that can't be right. . . _

"Very well," Brendan relented, handing the card back to the man who smiled affably and tucked it back inside his shirt pocket. The teenager's hand twitched very subtly towards a Pokeball clipped on his green belt.

_Oh! I know! _

"You're seventy-nine!" May declared vociferously. Brendan stared and forgot about his misgivings of Arthur, and Max slapped his hand over his face.

Fortunately, Arthur was not offended by May's declaration, but instead laughed bemusedly at her statement. May wondered why; and her questions were answered by his reply. "No, I'm twenty-seven," Arthur said. May felt both embarrassed and defiant. "But we should be going, no?"

"Yeah," Max agreed off-handedly for the two teenagers, who were both somewhat despondent in deposition. Arthur smiled and beckoned for the three to exit the Pokémon Center.

May stepped out into the night, inhaling the cool autumn air, and suddenly feeling much more energetic than she had when she had entered.

**Violet City—19:56, September 8: Monday **

Lounging on her chair, Marina Crystal Clearwater could hardly believe that she had actually accepted Jimmy's (begging) request to eat at a ramen shop.

At first she had thought Jimmy was kidding—he knew just how much she disliked eastern cooking, despite her mother being native to Kanto and her father only half-Hoenn, (1) but it had turned out that he was dead serious. It was rather unfortunate that Jimmy's good friend Bill the Eevee fanatic had gotten a copy of _Pokémon Celebrities NOW _before she herself could lay her little hands on the celebrity-centered magazine; and it was even more so that the front cover of the gossipy monthly sported a photo of Lance Dragonclaw, with his proud red cape flowing in the background.

Marina_adored_ Lance. (and his cape.) So how could she refuse?

However, as their waitress—a buxom but suspiciously fidgety blonde woman who wore too much eye makeup—brought them their two bowls of steaming beef (2) -flavored noodles, Marina wondered if she were going to suffer a traumatic breakdown, like the kinds from the television show she watched ("Law and Order").

Jimmy, utterly oblivious to Marina's imminent emotional dissolution, happily slurped up half of one of his six bowls of ramen (he had ordered one of each flavor, despite Marina's express distaste). Marina lackadaisically poked at her noodles, and could have sworn that a strand moved; even her gravity-defying cerulean pigtails were drooping.

"Oh my Latios! Brendan, Max, _look at all that ramen!_" A shrill female voice from behind Marina shouted, eliciting an unceremonious burp from Jimmy. Irritably, Marina turned around to see who the intruder was, only to find herself facing a certain May, who was looking by far more excited than Marina had ever seen the girl.

"Hey, hello!" Marina said, now with her usual girlish vigor, harboring the half-hope that May might rescue her from her ramen-induced hell, though, judging from the way May was hungrily eyeing Jimmy's half dozen bowls of the aforementioned dish, Marina thought she might not have too much luck.

Indeed, Marina was right to despair. May, who had forgotten all dignity, had been unable to restrain whichever ravenous demon she was home to and had, grabbing hold of Jimmy's white hood, thrown him off of his chair with one arm and strength parallel to that of a mothering Ursaring. She seated herself where Jimmy was—apparently forgetting her brain for a few moments—and had, seemingly instantaneously (to Marina's slow-working turquoise eyes at least) gulped down the entire contents of two bowls of ramen—at once.

"H-hi," Max replied to Marina's greeting somewhat shakily—looking down, Marina saw that she had overlooked the blue-haired youth, and Brendan behind him as well. He, too, looked shaken by May's barbaric behavior, and appalled at the fact that she had not ceased in her doings and was not intending to in the foreseeable future.

"Ow," said Jimmy as he struggled to push himself to his feet.

Ignoring Jimmy (for he got what he deserved, in Marina's vicious opinion), Marina said to Brendan and Max, "You're Brendan and Max, right? I remember you from the ship." Then, remembering a little more of the circumstances that surrounded the S.S. Tidal, proceeded to flash a flirtatious grin at Brendan. Jimmy stirred and bounced to his feet with buoyancy Marina had previously thought impossible of his lazy self.

"Yes; you are Marina, unless I am very much mistaken," Brendan said, looking away from May and attempting to act as nonchalant as possible, undoubtedly hoping that when the restaurant security came, they would not associate him with May and thus not throw him out. Max adopted a similar stance and edged away, with the excuse that he had to use the bathroom. However, Marina was disappointed that Brendan had ignored her smile.

"Yes, I am, and, well, that's Jimmy," Marina said, gesturing towards said black-haired teenager, who was now approaching Brendan and her with a stern expression on his usually affable face. Oddly enough, he seemed not to care that May was eating his dinner.

Brendan turned stiffly towards Jimmy; Marina suddenly recalled that the two boys had separated with less-than-friendly feelings weighing on their backs, and feared for both's mortalities.

"Hello, Jimmy," Brendan said edgily. Unfortunately for Jimmy, Brendan's intimidating height played out in his favor.

"Hello, Brendan." Jimmy replied, thin lips twitching to form a more-or-less straight line.

"More ramen!" May yelled, slamming two empty bowls on the table, letting them join their four equally empty comrades, and stamping her feet.

Luckily, a tall man then entered the scene. Evidently being fairly well acquainted with Brendan, May, and Max, he stepped into the dilemma and ended it with adult-like responsibility but patient understanding.

"Brendan, and Jimmy, I believe, please restrain May before she causes further trouble," He said, "And Max. . . wait. . . where did he go?"

"WC," Brendan grunted in reply, struggling with his momentous task of dragging May away from the table, muttering words that were best left incoherent under his breath.

Turning towards Marina, the man said, "Hello," and extended a hand out in greeting. Surprised by his friendliness, Marina returned the handshake and looked around for another table to seat herself at. She had a feeling that the dinner would not be uneventful.

Little did Marina know that, from behind two newspapers, two pairs of green eyes blinked synonymously. . .

**Author's Notes: **

(1) Since the Pokémon world is obviously different from the human world, I've decided to separate certain regions into different cultures/religions/races/etc. Kanto is (mainly eastern) Asia/parts of the Philippines, Johto is Eurasia/Europe, Hoenn is the Americas, and Sinnoh (split into North/South) is Africa and Oceania. However, the cultural/racial/etc. split of the four Pokémon regions (in this story at least) are slightly different from that of Earth as we know it. If you have any suggestions pertaining to the geography and the peoples of the Pokémon world, be sure to inform me of them.

(2) I'm not quite sure what sort of meat the characters in this story will consume, but I am leaning for a completely Pokémon world, despite several anime-stemmed contradictions to that suggestion. Beef is Tauros-flavored, the chicken would be Torchic, the duck would be Far'Fetchd, the sheep would be Flaffy, etc. However, I find the idea of eating such battle-suited Pokémon rather repulsive (excluding Far'Fetchd though -laughs-); perhaps I shall reach a compromise to this problem by creating farms on which Pokémon with no battle abilities are bred. . . but then that would cause all sorts of controversy. . . Ooh, I scent plot. . . Err, ignore me (and if you think of snatching that idea, I will be very unhappy), I am rambling.

Wow. I finished.

Hmm. . . Do you think I should cut future chapters in half? That way, I would be able to update much quicker and whiz through the updates, instead of have situations like these, in which a day would drag on for literally a month.

. . . er. . . Review please? c:

**Pokémon © Satoshi Tajiri  
Story © Galbinus  
OCs © Their respective creators **


	11. Take Flight

**The Johto Odyssey  
**by Galbinus

**Dedication: **NarutoNinja44! She's FINALLY back. My goodness. ILU (platonically.)  
** Chapter Rating: **K+ to T for mentioning of slightly inappropriate topics  
**OC's Used: Arc Knight**'s **Arthur Knight**

So.. No update in… what… A QUARTER OF A YEAR? WHAT IS THIS FOOLERY?!

Yes, Galbinus is back, and armed with an update!

I am well aware that I suck. 8C And also of the 203842038 errors in this chapter. I will go back eventually to fix them. . . Eventually. . .

**Chapter Eleven: Take Flight**

**Violet City—05:34, September 9: Tuesday**

Brendan Birch awoke bright and early the next morning. The first, wintry rays of September filtered through the blinds and cast chunky bars of sunlight on his purple-rimmed Pokémon Center sheets.

Hurriedly, he leapt out of bed and hastily pulled on his short-sleeved jacket over his black nightshirt, thrusting on his pants as he hobbled towards the bathroom. He thought he could hear a small ruckus from the room next to his (of which Jimmy and Marina occupied), and assumed that they were in another small argument, and hoped that it would not spiral into another dramatic altercation. The faint snoring of May, and her most unfeminine body odor, drifted down somewhere above Brendan on the bunk bed, but these thoughts were quickly replaced by one resounding realization:

_Today I am going to challenge the Violet City Gym!_

His Adam's apple oscillated unevenly with excitement, and, after hurriedly slapping on some moisturizing lotion (Premium Ivory ™ (marketed by the Devon Corporation), no less), he wrenched the door open, stuffed on his sneakers, and, making sure that his Pokeballs were aligned correctly on his belt, streaked down the escalators and out of the Pokémon Center, where a startled and slightly drowsy Nurse Joy bid him, "Have a, um, good day, sir. . ."

Luck, however, was not completely with him. Approximately half a second after barging out of the sliding red doorway, Brendan found himself apprehended by the firm grip of Arthur Knight's powerful right hand grabbing his collar. Brendan gave a startled squeak and indignantly began 

complaining, sparing Arthur only an oblique glance of identity confirmation, "Let me go, Arthur! I have important things to do! A gym to challenge! Money to make to fund May Maple's imminent shopping sprees! Even more money to make to fill May's bottomless pit of a stomach!"

Arthur gave a deep baritone of a chuckle. "There's no need to rush, young one,"—Brendan felt a little miffed; he was not all that young, he was already fifteen!—"If rushing's all that you do during life, then surely life isn't worth living?"

Brendan paused for a moment to digest and dissect Arthur's philosophical words, but still couldn't quite figure out how they applied to his situation. Adrenaline, surging through his veins, refused to ebb.

"Please, just let me go! I really have to challenge the gym!" Brendan whined.

The brown-haired man heaved a reluctant sigh, then dropped Brendan on his feet and allowed the teenager—though, from the way he was behaving, 'boy' would have been the more appropriate termination—to scamper away towards the direction of the gym. Had Brendan bothered turning around for a single moment, he would have seen the slightly melancholy expression of exasperation but expectation cross Arthur's austere features. However, Brendan did holler a vague, "Take care of May for the short while I'm gone!" to the man before rounding the corner.

His footsteps echoed without restriction down the stone avenues, with no congestion to bar the noise: even though the city was the second-largest, population-wise, in the highly urbanized region of Johto, at this ungodly hour no other pedestrian walked the streets. Brendan had already memorized the route he had to navigate to get to the Gym, and, after proceeding north for a few minutes, stopped to rest for another minute and began dashing westward.

Presently he arrived in front of the gym, panting as he drank in its proud, domed roof, its imposing limestone walls, and the lonely but large sign marked 'VIOLET CITY GYM' above the door entrance.

For a heartbeat, judging from the seeming lack of activity from the building, Brendan feared that the gym would not be open: but, finding the entrance double-doors unlocked, he stepped inside and the light turned on automatically, revealing a tidy (but still human-less) room. The lobby was furnished with several plotted plants and a few white-suede sofas, as well as four walls painted a light shade of violet, but apart from that, it appeared deserted.

Then Brendan's attention snapped to the circular elevator situated in the back of the room. (1) It was of an admirably modern design: a pane of perfectly-formed glass circled around a purple platform inside the elevator with no walls (it was of a round shape and impeccably fit the circular glass). A glass doorway was on the side of the elevator, presumably where the Gym challenger should enter the elevator. Brendan looked upwards, and saw a ceiling very high up.

Nervousness melted in with his initial excitement, and threatened to evolve into trepidation as he hesitantly stepped through the glass doorway and onto the purple platform, which immediately began gliding upwards. He wobbled on one foot for a few seconds, and he could have sworn that the Pokeball of his motion-sickness prone Aggron shook with fright.

He narrowed his eyes as the platform slowed to a stop, training his sight on the ceiling-less battlefield that was visible from his standpoint: underneath a roof of sorts that gave way to said battlefield. Something which tasted uncomfortably like his previous night's dinner lurched up to his tongue, and, trembling, he began walking towards the sunlight-drown field.

He suddenly had the feeling that someone—or, something—was following him. Whipping around, he saw that the elevator and vertical corridor behind himself was deserted. Frowning lightly, he turned back to the field, and thought he saw something sparkle in the air before he left the safety of the shade.

Brendan's arm rose instinctively to his sensitive red eyes as the lighting increased ten-fold with the absence of a ceiling. He could see that he was standing on a terra-cotta, concrete-paved floor that stretched for about the size of a football field, and above him stretched the endless celestial canopy. There was now nothing he could do about the embarrassingly loud heartbeat emanating from his ribcage, as he surveyed the area, looking for the Gym Leader.

It then struck Brendan that, though he had read in Max's _Johto Rougher _magazine that the Violet City Gym specialized in flying-types, he couldn't recall the name or face of the Gym Leader. Just as this disturbing thought flitted into his mind, a young man who looked to be about the age of twenty or so—he was not very old at all—came into view, soaring on a steel-plated Skarmory. The man landed showily but gracefully on the ground, and the metallic bird gave a high-pitched, blood-curling screech at Brendan, who recoiled at the horrible grating noise.

"A challenger! I see!" The man said in a relatively high-pitched male voice, flourishing the short sleeves of his turquoise-green shirt, underneath which he was wearing an indigo kimono which billowed impressively with the slightest of breezes. He began walking over to the opposite end of the battlefield, unclipping two Pokeballs from a white ribbon he was keeping tied across his stomach. "It's been a little while since I had one of these. Newly-hired referee, take note of the kid's scrawniness."

Brendan's ego swelled as his pride took a blow from the Gym Leader's condescending words. "Hey! Watch your mouth!" Brendan shouted angrily without thinking, making a rude hand gesture with his right hand. "I happen to be the son of Professor Birch, so don't even think about patronizing me, hot shot!"

The Gym Leader gave an unimpressed snort, further crushing Brendan's confidence. "Shouldn't it be the other way around, kid?—"

"_Kid?!_" Brendan said once again, cringing. "For your information, I am a very mature person! I—I—I—"

"Stutter? Punk, I don't care if you're the kid of two Pokémon Champions, unless you prove to me that you can battle as well as you proclaim, your words are _dirt _to me!" The Gym Leader spat. His large Skarmory gave an empathetic hiss as well. "So you barge into my Gym without even saying anything! Do you know that I, Falkner Avatar of Violet City, was sleeping peacefully until the Burglar Alarm went off and I hurried here, only to find a sad excuse for a Gym challenger like you _staining the battlefield _of my father and my own _Gym! _Now, hurry up and send out your pathetic Pokémon so I can show you the true extent of my magnificent bird Pokémon's powerful wrath!"

Brendan might have been genuinely offended by Falkner's words had it not been for the man's last few words. However, his Gallade seemed disturbed by the insults that had been thrown at his Trainer—Brendan could tell from the quiet telepathic murmurings Ruru was breathing steadily under his breath from his spherical container.

'Son of a runt Ralts! How dare that man revile with such untrue words my gracious master! I beseech thee, kindest Cresselia, please bless me with the strength of one thousand waxing moons so that I may, as some humans put it, "kick his—"'

"Ruru," Brendan said warningly, though he was secretly warmed by Ruru's supportive words.

'"--behind."'

A smile tugged at Brendan's face, and his gloved hand hovered for a few moments over Ruru's Pokeball, but in the end he settled on his Aggron's excitably rocking containment unit. Throwing out the Pokeball, Brendan hurriedly plugged his ears with his fingers as Rono the Aggron gave a beastly bellow of a war call. He felt satisfied with his choice in Pokémon: Brendan thought that he had been negligible of his other Pokémon in the week they had been in Johto.

Brendan looked to this right and noticed that a blonde woman had begun refereeing the game. He thought that she looked strangely familiar, then remembered that she greatly resembled the waitress who had been serving him, May, Max, and the rest last night.

"Battle start!" The woman cried out in a very official voice. "One versus one!"

_And so it began._

_A smirk._

Rono instinctively rolled herself into a giant ball of steel and iron plates before Brendan could holler a command. Bewildered by his Pokémon's disobedience, Brendan dumbly watched as Falkner jumped onto Skarmory with practiced synchronization, and in a flurry of silver, the bird Pokémon was pummeling the Aggron with repeated 'Steel Wing' attacks.

Brendan backed away, narrowing his eyes into barely open slits; the sunlight being reflected off of the Skarmory's metallic feathers was truly blinding. His shoulders instinctively rose to squeeze in his ears, as the din created by the clashing was rivaling that of ten excitable jackhammers.

"Rono!" Brendan said, wondering if his order could be heard above all the furious clashing. "Fire Blast, _now!_"

Luckily for the Trainer, his Aggron's auditory abilities were not to be taken lightly. Rono heard the order and, flinging her draconic body out in a whir of clashing rock-plates, unhinged her mouth and let loose a fervent barrel of white-scarlet flames.

Falkner, shocked that the Iron Armor Pokémon was capable of learning such a move, didn't call for his Skarmory to pull back in time, and the Armor Bird Pokémon's once-gleaming steel chest took the brunt of the Fire attack, burning a nasty charcoal color in minimum time.

"_Skaarrrrrr!_" ( ' ":Good Registeel! It burns!:" '—Ruru translated to Brendan, sounding very much as if the Gallade were smirking) The Skarmory shrieked, flinging itself backwards into the sky. Rono bellowed triumphantly, stomping her pillars of feet on the concrete rooftop for added effect.

"Little punk! How dare you!" Falkner howled, positively delirious. "Argh! I should have remembered that the Aggron line is capable of learning many moves!" He cursed the Hoenn region under his breath. "Dear Skarmory, are you feeling all right? Your beautiful wings are still capable of flight, yes?"—Skarmory cawed affirmatively in reply, though still sounded hurt.—"Well, in that case, we must fight back! Skarmory, 'Metal Sound'!"

Brendan had just clamped his hands over his ears when the flying Pokémon sent a series of rapid high-pitched cries at the ground. It assuaged his ears, not unlike a lightning bolt would strike an unsuspecting pond. Lacking appendages and the ability to raise her arms to her head, Rono was affected the worse by the attack: her entire body—all steel plates and bulk—was driven back several feet (leaving black marks on the floor) by the force of sheer sound alone.

Falkner was giggling gleefully. Brendan found the sound highly perturbing, perhaps even more so than the Gym Leader's Pokémon's 'Metal Sound' attack.

"Haha! Who's laughing now, punk?!" Falkner said. "Skarmory, 'Air Slash' now!"

Brendan's eyebrow twitched with annoyance, and hurriedly he yelled as Skarmory drew back its wings to fire off the Flying-type attack, "Rono! Hurry, counter with 'Fire Blast'!"

Unfortunately, however, Falkner was preparing this time around. "Dodge!" The Gym Leader called out, and the Skarmory swerved violently to the right, avoiding just in time the fire attack.

They exchanged 'Air Slashes' and 'Fire Blasts' for solid five minutes; all the while Brendan's mind was racing to reach some sort of feasible ending to this battle. He was hesitant on ordering his Aggron to strike with an 'Iron Tail': doing so would require the Iron Armor Pokémon to go airborne for at least a few seconds, and that would only be offering Rono on a silver platter to the flying-type.

At last Brendan seemed to reach some sort of consensus. He looked at the floor, then at the sky. Tapping his feet on the concrete, Brendan listened and estimated that the rooftop was thick enough to withstand a lot of pressure (perhaps it had been built with the thought of Pokémon battles to account for.)

"Rono!" Brendan called above yet another obligatory 'Fire Blast'—which scorched off a steel feather—, "Use 'Iron Tail' on the floor!"

The Aggron shot her Trainer a dubious glance, but knew better than to disobey, despite the strangeness of the command. With a monumental heave of an inhale, Rono flipped into the air—and, tail glowing white—and slammed her lower-spinal appendage into the rooftop with all of her strength (and, considering, that was quite a bit of horsepower.)

Meter-high spikes of concrete exploded out of the ground and skyrocketed even higher up. One, propelled upwards at a speed almost supersonic, hit the glistening, silver, all-too-exposed belly of the Skarmory. There was a sickening crunching noise as the spike of concrete took the Armor Bird Pokémon to even loftier heights, simply with its initial propulsion. A smirk lifted Brendan's defined features; Rono bellowed triumphantly, stomping her foot and thrashing the tail which had caused such damage victoriously.

Unfortunately, this action seemed to tip some sort of constructional scale: the entire building began trembling as concrete gave way in the middle of the battlefield/rooftop, where the 'Iron Tail' had taken place. Rooted to the ground with horror, Brendan could only watch as the once-grand edifice began crumbling away, as if assuaged by some sort of single-building earthquake; and in a sense, it had been.

The blonde referee shrieked, startled; Brendan was revitalized enough to shoot her a glance and noticed that she had thrust a flag in his way, signaling that he had won. Seeing his victory confirmed brought some happiness to him; but it vanished quickly as Brendan realized that he was soon to fall to an untimely and unceremonious death if he did not get out of there—fast.

Hurriedly, Brendan returned his stuttering Rono and, trembling with the tremors that rolled through the building, reached for his Dragonite's Pokeball. By this point he had completely forgotten about anyone's safety apart from his own; fortunately, he located the correct Pokeball and flung out Dradra, just as he fell backwards into the hole.

Screaming like a girl, Brendan flayed about wildly in mid-air, gravity seeking to claim his messy death as, seemingly miles above him, an orange Dragon materialized out of red light. "_Dradra!_" Brendan yelled.

He was then hit by a falling rock and the last thing he saw or heard was a concerned yelp of a Pokémon, then darkness.

**Violet City Pokémon Center—03:12, September 12: Friday**

To May Maple, the wait seemed almost eternal as she sat hunched over the still body of Brendan Birch. For three days, she did not move from her seat except to consult the hospital's washroom and get a drink of water: she saw no need to eat or sleep; when the Pokémon Center, Human Division security guards came on the first night to bodily, if necessary, to remove her from her bedside seating, she sent out her Blaziken and he gladly took care of the problem, fending off two of the guards' Machoke. The hospital staff had not troubled her since then. Dark circles grew underneath her blue eyes; and they lost all of their blossoming vivacity.

Despite her brother lambasting her for lack of eating (_funny, though_, thought May, _He's usually the one telling me to stop stuffing my "fat mouth"_) or sleeping, May, stubbornly, did neither of those things. It was impossible to escape from her black hole of fear; the doctors were unsure whether or not Brendan would wake up from his concussion. Her Pokémon were the only ones who sensed and understood her true worrying.

_I've lost him once already. I can't lose him again._

Perhaps May was being dramatic—perhaps being a Coordinator influenced this?—but as she stroked her Eevee's tail in the wee hours of the morning, fighting back strong urges to yawn, she would meditate on childhood memories of mock Pokémon battles with Brendan—and Wally, too, if he was there—and trying to learn how to sew—and learning how to cook her first omelet under Brendan's guidance—and—and—

"Where's my badge?!"

May jumped out of her seat and it skidded across the floor and she landed on her Eevee's tail and the DNA Pokémon howled in agony and May apologized and she got up.

Brendan was sitting upright in his bed, white sheets, his back as straight as a ruler. May's breath caught in her throat, and, unable to restrain herself, she blurted out, "BRENDAN!" and hurled herself into his embrace, sobs racking her body.

"Whoa, calm down, May," Brendan said, alarmed. May felt his warm arms snake up her back in a gesture of placation. Oddly enough, instead of her being the one to comfort Brendan, the roles had been reversed. It was strange how things tended to happen in that pattern around the black-haired Trainer. These thoughts only amplified May's crying. "Uh, May, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot," May managed to choke out.

Hesitantly, Brendan said, "Did I get the badge?"

May smiled wryly; sensing trepidation swell up around Brendan, she pulled out a small package from her dandelion fanny pack and handed it over to the black-haired Trainer, who accepted the parcel with trembling hands and stuttered "thanks".

Ripping the package open with the ferocity of a Primeape, Brendan's shaking fingers found the U-shape of the Zephyr Badge. Peering as surreptitiously as she could into Brendan's crimson eyes, May noticed pleasantly that their usual content shine had manifested. She watched as Brendan found the small letter attached to the badge, and perused it aloud.

" 'Dear Mr. Birch,

I, as Falkner, Gym Leader of Violet City, am writing in an apology of my barbaric behavior—'"

'It is heartening, at the very least, to see that impudent excuse of a Gym Leader learning some manners deserving of my good master,' Ruru remarked vindictively, bringing a small smile to Brendan's lips which he hastily erased and continued.

" 'I wish to present you with this Zephyr badge, in recognition of your prowess in battle. This badge is one of the few which entirely survived the collapse of infrastructure. Though the damage was astounding, as a Pokémon League representative I acknowledge that under Section 12b of the Gym Ordinance Laws, I am not allowed to sue you for reparations, which I had no intention of doing, anyhow.' "

His voice broke momentarily, but he plowed on through the letter.

" 'Enclosed also are Pokédollars 25,000, the payment for your victory.'"

Brendan's red eyes twinkled. "Hope that's enough to satiate your appetite for a little while, May," and May was glad that Brendan was really back.

" 'If you were curious, the referee escaped undamaged, though I have no idea where she is now, as the Pokémon Center, Human Division of Violet City informed me that she was ejected from hospital premises after her alleged husband came and picked her up. They were accompanied by a strange boy.'

" 'I conclude this letter with yet another apology, and I profess my deepest congratulations. May your journey through the rest of the Johto League prove as unfettered as our match.'

'Sincerely,'

'Falkner Ava, Jr.' "

May beamed, but Brendan crumpled with rather disturbing power the letter from Falkner, throwing away all the contents of the package save for the badge. He polished the Zephyr badge with his hospital gown, and turned to face May, a slight smile uplifting his features.

"So, where's Arthur and Jimmy and Marina and Max. . .?" Brendan asked, almost suspiciously casually. May thought nothing of any ulterior motives of her friend, and answered his question.

"Well, Arthur's left; says he's gotta catch a train or something to Goldenrod. . . He told me he works there!" May said, her beam widening. Brendan nodded as he drank in this information, and waved for May to proceed. "Max's playing with some other kids outside. Jimmy and Marina left too; since there's no Contest Hall in Violet City, and Jimmy beat Falkner in the three days you were out—"

This came as news to Brendan. He coughed mildly and excused himself to the bathroom.

May watched as he slipped through the doorway, smiling.

**Route 32—07:32, September 12: Friday**

Drew Rosalind wondered what he had done to wrong the Pokémon Gods, if such legends existed at all. He donated frequently, albeit stingily meticulously; he was not rude (well, always) to his Pokémon; he was honest in his critique of others' faults. In the end the Coordinator came to the conclusion that Lady Fortune simply was not shining upon his green head.

The sun had set a few minutes ago, but the residue rays of light were still loitering in the air. Beneath him were uneven clumps of wild growth which lay over a fairly even lawn of "normal" grass. Proud coniferous trees, interspersed randomly with the occasional deciduous, blanketed most of the land to his left and right. His hands were handcuffed, tied to a chain where the female member of the Team Rocket duo who had kidnapped him was holding. The chain was long enough so that regular conversation between the two could not be overheard (consequentially, Drew didn't know what the two were called), but Drew could estimate the fluctuating emotions between the two based on how regularly and how forcefully the woman jerked his chain.

It was immeasurably embarrassing. They had taken away his Pokeballs and broke the seals on them to prevent any of his Pokémon from escaping. The only way to repair the level of damage on them was to take Drew's Pokeballs to a Pokeball crafter specializing in the creation and regulation of said capsules; but Drew had no idea where the nearest one was geographically 

located, nor did he have much of a chance of escape. Not only that, but they permitted him to only drink and eat twice a day, and sleep on the ground, no less! Normally Drew would sleep at least in one of his Royal Suite ® DeluxeCamps ™, or a four-star hotel (normally five, though), and so the thought and action of actually laying his head on a—on a—_rock _to sleep was most disparaging.

He was not permitted to remove his handcuffs at any time, not even when he had to go relieve himself. Fortunately, the tall grasses provided plenty of coverage so at least he did not have to contemplate suicide on a regular basis, notion which would stem from being spied upon while he did his business.

Possibly the only good thing Drew could see out of this was that they were at least headed in a southerly direction, towards Azalea Town (he had seen a Route pointer some hours ago which read "Route 32". If Drew remembered correctly, that was where the next Contest Hall was situated; and perhaps, if he managed to escape this weird blonde woman and the weirder turquoise-haired man, he would be able to get his next ribbon.

But that seemed like an impossible prospect. Drew sighed and laid his fate in that of the heavens, as the woman Team Rocket member once again gave a sharp tug on his chain and he almost fell flat on his face.

**Author's Notes:**

(1) I didn't watch the episode where Ash battled Falkner, so I am slightly improvising with the design of the gym. I do have a few reference screenshots of the arena, though, so nothing should be _completely _off. . . hopefully. By the way, this fic is set in a predominantly anime universe, but there are manga and game elements as well, which I hope sets all right with you.

. . .

-brick'd-

**Pokémon © Satoshi Tajiri  
Story © Galbinus  
OCs © Their Respective Owners  
Do not redistribute without permission**


	12. The Case of the Hoppip

I'M BACK BABY

My greatest regret is that I was fairly good for a seventh grader when I started this fic. Now I don't know if I am as proportionately good a writer.

Anyway, I hope that you guys will enjoy this chapter.

**Chapter Twelve: The Case of the Hoppip**

**Route 32—07:35, September 12: Friday**

The day was early when Brendan, May, and Max set off for the next town. Having bid adieu to the most understanding staff at the Human Division (Max noticed with a complacent twist of his stomach that May's Blaziken had been out when she apologized for beating up the guards' Machoke), the wreckage that was the Violet City gym, and the memorable purple bed sheets from the city Pokémon Center lodging rooms, Max wondered vaguely what was in store for the trio.

Metropolitan edifices gave way to a rural landscape. The city skyline faded from view behind them as they continued southwards. Max had consulted the wise _Johto Rougher_ magazine when deciding the route trip and settled on a more Trainer-geared "Gym Battler Route" that was provided in the front pages of the travel periodical. _May would adapt, anyhow,_ Max reasoned; and the next Gym coincided in location with the next Contest Hall.

Though his mother would disapprove of such eye-harming activities, Max had his nose tucked comfortably in a book (one he had snatched from the Violet City Pokémon Center: _To Kill a Noctowl_) as he waddled along behind Brendan, May, and whichever fortunate Pokémon was allowed out of their Pokeballs at the time (the three humans had unanimously agreed upon only allowing one Pokémon of each team out for an hour, seeing in the Rattata Incident which had occurred not too long ago.) Ahead of Brendan and May, a mildly content Milotic and bouncy Eevee were leading the way.

"Eeeeee—!" The DNA Pokémon would exclaim in regular intervals, all the while lashing out her fat tail. Max found the cries disillusioning and found difficulty in his literary escapism whenever these "Eeeeee"s would sound out. The Water Pokémon, on the other hand, was doing a remarkable job of keeping quiet.

Brendan and May made small conversation; the former limped slightly all the while. Max, uninterested in whatever the two older humans were discussing, payed no attention to their words. Instead, he tuned into the charming words of Scout Pidgey's childhood. He found it difficult, however, to block out all the noise at times.

"—So then he said, 'Want to try a cookie?' And then I said, well, yah, that'd be nice. Then I took a cookie and I said, 'Well, it's not half-bad, sir!' And he just scampered off real fast."

"That was when you first met Harley?"

"Yep. He's never been quite as nice as when he was that first day on the ship. I'm not really sure what happened. Maybe he's got that tripod disease you were talking about before. . .?"

"You mean 'bipolar.'"

"Yeah. That's the one."

"It is a possibility, though one can never be sure what a wily guy like Harley is up to."

**Nobody Knows**

As a matter of fact, Harley Davidson _was_ up to something.

"Ah! The many uses of cameras," He said as he extracted one from his coat pocket. He polished the lens and tucked it back inside.

"_Poketeen Magazine _will _have _to accept _these _babies," he assured himself, bouncing along the streets. His buoyant gait attracted the attention of many bewildered passerby. The twenty-four cameras lining the inside of his coat made plastic scraping sounds as they hit each other.

_Yes, they would be absolute idiots to _not_! _reasoned Harley. He rounded a corner and proceeded into a shady pawn shop. Approaching the cashier with his hood down, the man looked perfectly at home with the dingy surroundings.

"I'd like to develop these suckers," Harley said in a low voice, opening his coat and revealing his cameras. They glittered like beetles. The cashier grunted, unimpressed with the arsenal, and accepted the cameras from Harley.

Harley watched apprehensively as his precious darlings were handled by the rough worker. "So when will my little ones be developed?"

The cashier gargled twice to indicate two days, as was his custom. Harley understood. He reached into his pocket and offered the worker a biscuit. "Want to try a cookie?"

**Route 32—12:35, September 12: Friday**

Max put down his book and surveyed the lunch Brendan had prepared. It looked very good – it was almost comparable to Mom's cooking – but not quite.

Pokémon and human alike feasted on the grub. Max approved of the equality of the eating arrangements; it was a change from Brock's totalitarian concept of "humans eat human food; Pokémon eat Pokémon food; don't take 'food' away from the equation at any time." Max had always wondered about the ethics of cannibalism (1).

_To Kill a Noctowl _had just about climaxed – the scary Mr. Rory was about to spring onto an unsuspecting Scout. Max wanted to finish his lunch and wrap up the novel, although he had to admit that he was beginning to see white spots.

"So then I said to him, 'I don't know if I really want to do that,' but then he said 'Oh May darling, you _know _you want to make your Skitty use Assist – after all, what bad has come of it?' He was very tricky like that."

"Mmmm," said the usually eloquent Brendan, eating something.

"And I _followed _his advice, really I did, but it ended up backfiring on me. I think that he wanted it to turn out that way. Actually, now that I think about it, he probably did. But anyways, I managed to save it even though Skitty was getting really dizzy, because I made her use Ice Beam and everything was all pretty and somehow Skitty made a beautiful mountain of ice."

"Ahhhh."

"So that's how I got _into _the Grand Festival! Now, what I actually did—"

"Ohhhh," said Brendan very quietly.

May continued describing her Grand Festival experience for some day, taking a few breaks in between vignettes to refill her bowl with soup. Brendan continued listening with a dazed expression on his face.

Lunch was over when Rono upset the pot of stew in an eager reenactment of the recent Gym Battle. Brendan was startled out of his reverie by this mishap, and politely excused himself from May's presence in order to clean up the mess. May, unperturbed by Brendan's departure, turned to Eevee and continued to talk. The fox Pokémon was surprised to be at the receiving end of gabber.

As Brendan mopped up the spill, Max noticed that the pages of _To Kill A Noctowl _were flapping around wildly. This occurrence augured the approach of even heavier winds, which tore the book right out of Max's hands and sent it flying into the tall grass.

Max, embittered by his loss, turned his attention toward the source of the problem. He saw an approaching whirlwind of yellow dust and uprooted plants. Even as he watched, the tornado enlarged to a width of fifty meters and hastened to a speed too fast for human eyes.

But even more strangely, Max noticed a host of round pink figures trapped in the whirlwind. Upon closer examination, he saw that they were really Pokémon, the likes of which he hadn't seen before. Even as he whipped out his PokeNav (which was _clearly _the _smartest _thing to do at that moment), more of these ball-like Pokémon were being lifted out of the grass and swept up in the whirlwind. It was as if the invisible hand of a giant were judiciously plucking pimples off its face.

The rest of the crew also noticed the approach of the whirlwind. Brendan shrieked and dropped his rag. May stopped talking and joined Brendan in his shrieking. Eevee cried and wished that she were inside the Pokeball.

At this time, the PokeNav choked out its identification of the pink Pokémon: "Hoppip! The Cottonweed Pokémon! Its body is so light, it must grip the ground firmly with its feet to keep from being blown away!"

Max readjusted his glasses and saw that the whirlwind was headed straight for them. He guessed that it would hit them in half a minute – and it looked truly destructive – tearing up rows of vegetation and coercing more and more Hoppip out of the grass –

Frightened, Max turned to his sister and Brendan for guidance. With dread, he saw that they were both knocked out cold. Ostensibly, the pot was the culprit – and now it was escaping, tumbleweed-style.

The boy decided that he would have to take matters into his own hands. This was what being a _real _Pokémon trainer was all about, wasn't it? After all, hadn't he and Ash and Brock (and May) gotten into worse fixes? And Max had a whole host of experienced Pokémon under his command!

He turned to Brendan and May's Pokémon, trying to decide which one he should command. The Aggron? She looked completely lost, now that her trainer was unconscious. Eevee, Squirtle, and Skitty had forced themselves back into their Pokeballs. Milotic had gone to sleep a while ago, and she was still sleeping. Blaziken was looking angrily at Max, expecting the human to do something. The Gallade Ruru looked terrified of the moving air. Shiftry was hiding behind a boulder. Munchlax was licking the soup off the ground.

Paralyzed with fear and uncertainty, Max didn't know _whom _to choose. His brain knew all of the information – which Pokémon had what specialties, abilities, characteristics. But his hands would not move, and his mouth would not open!

While he was thinking, Zuzu and Dradra had found their own solution to the problem. The Swampert picked the Dragonite up and, muscles rippling, heaved the orange dragon in the direction of the imminent tornado. Dradra hit the column of moving air like a torpedo, and entered the eye of the storm.

Max couldn't see what she was doing, but a few meters away from their camp, the whirlwind came to an abrupt stop. Dirt and Hoppip rained. Dragonite was spinning around rapidly where the tornado was, and slowed to a stop. She landed gracefully and looked humble.

Though sincerely relieved that crisis had been averted, Max could not help but feel disgruntled at his own incompetence. He did not feel ready to be a real Trainer – yet he had been convinced that _theoretically_ he should be the best. In reality, that was not the case. Dejectedly, Max sat down next to Brendan and his sister, waiting for them to wake up.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**Author's Notes:**

(1) It was introduced to him in the book _So What If We're "Civilized?" We're STILL Pokémon!_

Yo, my old chapters were _so long oh my goodness_

_**NEVER AGAIN**_

Also, I hate how this fic is so documentarian. IT SHOULD BE AN ADVENTURE! NOT A REALITY SERIES! (Of course, no offense intended to documentarians; documentaries are a form of high art.)

The first part of this chapter was written last year or something, but I just couldn't delete it. Sorry. Savor its crappiness.

Also, I need a beta. Self-editting just won't cut it. My grammar can sucks. I don't know if my old betas are still alive. They were the best, though. If you _are_ alive (and you know who you are) please PM me. But if they are not alive, do you, lovely reviewer, want to be a beta?

I plan on getting the next chapter up before Monday. Look at me being all efficient and stuff!

Please review! Critique, comment, query, whatever. It takes ten seconds of your time, and it will really cheer me up. Reviews seriously motivate me, you know; everyone likes being appreciated.


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